


Speaking of Swans

by LucyCrewe11 (Raphaela_Crowley)



Series: Narnian Fairy Tales [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Grimm Brothers retelling, Hans Christian Andersen retelling, Inspired by The Storyteller Jim Henson, Magic, Six Swans, Swans, Wild Swans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphaela_Crowley/pseuds/LucyCrewe11
Summary: The only way for Susan to save Peter, Edmund, and Lucy is for her to keep silent but being completely mute proves harder and more dangerous for her than any of them expected.
Relationships: Caspian/Susan Pevensie
Series: Narnian Fairy Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847062
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Happiness at Cair Paravel

**Author's Note:**

> Written Summer of 2009

_We are Princes and Princesses, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_One day, my eldest brother will be a high king in our father's place._

_We have everything we will ever need;_

_we write on golden slates with diamond-covered quills,_

_we eat the finest food each day,_

_we sleep on silken sheets and velvet blankets,_

_we live in a beautiful castle called Cair Paravel by the Eastern Sea,_

_we play in that glittering water whenever the weather allows;_

_sometimes we have even seen Aslan himself coming towards us, pad-padding over to our land of Narnia to visit father._

_Yes, by everything, I mean, everything._

_Everything that is, except for mother._

_She died giving birth to our sister; we three older ones and father miss her dearly, but at least we've finally started smiling again._

_I guess for the most part, in spite of our deep loss, we are a happy family._

_A happy royal family._

* * *

It was a warm, mid-summer's day and Peter, the eldest son of King Frank, was strolling along the castle's many tapestry-covered passageways when he heard a funny little cry coming from the very direction he was headed in.

"What are you doing?" Peter laughed breathlessly, spotting his three squealing siblings running down the gold-and-white marble corridor.

Susan had Lucy's arms and Edmund had her legs. They were swinging her back and forth playfully while she let out pretend squeaks of protest and lightly kicked at the air near Edmund's side as if she was trying to escape although she seemed to be making no real effort to do so.

"We're going to tie Lucy to a pillar!" Susan giggled, gently tightening her grip on her little sister so she didn't drop her by mistake.

"Peter, help!" Lucy managed to blurt out in between bouts of wild laughter. "Don't leave me with these people."

"Aw, Lu, I don't know..." Peter smirked, walking over to them and standing at such an angle that Lucy was basically looking at him upside down. "They seem awful nice, don't you think?"

"They're going to tie me to a pillar." Lucy reminded him, breaking into another round of giggles as her eldest brother wiggled his fingers close to Susan who could be sort of ticklish sometimes.

She let out a squeal as soon as he made contact with her side and accidentally let go of Lucy, who's whole weight was then launched into an unsuspecting Edmund so that they fell to the ground with Lucy's toes going right up his nostrils.

Susan panted for breath and pushed Peter away. "Stop that, it tickles!"

"That's the _point_!" Peter exclaimed teasingly, almost tackling her before Edmund, finally free of Lucy's feet, raced over to them and jumped onto Peter's back shouting, "Pig pile on Peter!"

"Hey, get off!" He protested in a weak gasp before Lucy jumped onto Edmund's back pushing them all deeper into the floor with another excited squeal of joy.

When they finally all untangled themselves from each other, their eyebrows all went up, way up. The next thing they knew, they were-all four of them-in a desperate race. Through the courtyard full of swan-statue styled fountains and white-gold candle trees, out the curly-patterned ironed gates, down over towards the beach and then into the front of the woods a little ways off until they came to a stream and stopped short.

As they all teetered on the somewhat muddy edge of the brook, Edmund nudged Susan so that she banged into Peter. He fell into the water with a large splash and a surprised, "Oof!"; he moved his damp light hair away from his forehead. Then he glanced at Susan with a, 'you are going to pay for that one' expression on his face.

"Here," Susan tried in vain not to laugh at him as she extended her hand out to help him up. "Let me help you."

A new gleam came into his eyes and the corners of his mouth edged upwards like he was trying to hold back a joke until the moment was just right. He took her hand and waited until she was leaning quite far off the edge, wavering a little because he was heavier than she was, and then slid his grip upwards until he felt his fingers lock firmly around her wrist.

"No thanks," His smile widened, he was ready to share that joke now. With one good yank, he pulled her into the water beside him. As soon as he heard-and felt-the splash at his right side, he added, "I would rather help _you_ , dear sister."

"Edmund," Susan said sweetly, fake-smiling with twinkling eyes at her younger brother, reaching out to grab his hand. "Ed...Eddie-Ed, come here, there's something I want to show you."

Knowing perfectly well that she was simply going to try and pull him into the water with them, he moved a couple of inches away. "How dumb do you think I am?"

Suddenly he felt a light push from behind and fell into the water with an even bigger splash than the other two had made.

"Dumb enough not to see that coming, I guess." Peter laughed, flicking his wet fingers in Edmund's face. He glanced up at Lucy who stood just behind where Edmund had been a mere second ago. "Right, Lu?"

Lucy shrugged her shoulders innocently and giggled into the palm of her hand, looking down at her sopping siblings who were now getting into a rather high-pitched splashing fight.

When Peter and Susan took a break from trying to 'drown' him for a second to fight each other, Edmund fixed his eyes on Lucy and winked at her.

"Lucy...Lucy-Lu..." He tilted his head and wadded close to the edge of the bank to pull her in.

She didn't wait for his hand or his force, she had no reservations about getting her dress wet or about keeping her royal limbs clean. If anyone was usually more worried about that sort of thing, it was Susan, who disliked getting her lily-white fingers stained with residue from freshly-picked berries or her delicate feet covered with mud and even she, at the moment, was simply going along with everything in the pure, honest, lovely pursuit of having fun. Lucy simply jumped into the water herself without even bothering to lift her skirt or call out to warn the other three.

"Way to go, Lucy!" Peter cheered, while trying to ward off the big splashes Edmund and Susan had teamed up to make and aim at him.

Nearly four hours later, the four royal siblings crawled back onto the bank and laid spread out on their backs watching the clouds float slowly by, letting themselves dry off in the last rays of the sun. When evening came, they helped each other up and chased fire-flies. Peter caught one and gave it to Lucy and so she was satisfied and as the others had no real wish to have one themselves, they all went inside.

For some reason their father wasn't back yet but Trumpkin, the red-bearded dwarf who often looked after them in his absence-though Peter was old enough now to take care of the younger ones without being constantly supervised, told them they might take their meals in their chambers and perhaps stay up an extra hour or so if they were very keen on saying good-night to King Frank who would have to come back from hunting in the near-by forest reasonably soon.

After a fine meal of hart with pepper sauce, baked beans, and buttered bread served on silver-handled trays made of sparkling diamonds and plate-glass; with soft vanilla pudding in little golden bowls for dessert and tall glasses of the finest juice made from apples from their very own orchard that the talking moles had planted for them, they started to grow sleepy so Susan took little Lucy to her bedchamber and let her look at an old picture book so lovely that it was worth almost half the castle's treasury until she finally dozed off before falling asleep in a velvet-covered chair in the corner of the room herself.

Edmund and Peter yawned frequently, but as they were wondering what it was that was keeping their father and the rest of the hunting party away for so long, they forced their eyes to stay open and made their minds keep working by playing chess (with a solid-gold chess set with rubies for the pieces' eyes of course) on Peter's bedside table. Finally, when they could fight it no longer, their eyelids closed; Edmund's mouth sagged slightly and he began to snore. The golden chess king slipped out of Peter's uncurling fingers just as he was about to place it down, admitting defeat, checkmate.

At dawn, the hunting party returned but King Frank was not with them. Peter, the first of the children to awaken and enter the royal throne room eager for news of what ever it was that had happened the day before, asked after his father, only to be told they did not know where he was.

"He was with us...at first..." One young hunter with a thin trace of brownish-coloured stubble on his smooth, youthful face explained shakily. "But then...the stag...he...it...ran..." his voice kept trailing off and he seemed unable to finish a single sentence.

The head-hunter, a middle-aged man with a good reputation and a streak of silver-white in his dark hairline, took over. He rubbed his forehead and stood silently for a moment before remembering that Peter wanted to know where his father was.

"He thought he saw the white stag rushing into a thicket in the deepest, darkest, parts of the forest." He told the crown prince gravely. "And it was suddenly as if he had gotten new life in him. Something made him-and his horse for that matter-go so _fast_. I haven't seen his majesty with that much energy since Queen Helen-may the Lion do well and remember her goodness-passed away."

"What happened?" Peter's brow crinkled; that would have explained father being late, but it did nothing to explain why he had not returned at all.

"He was going so fast that we couldn't keep up with him." The head-hunter continued, his shoulders slumming with sadness and worry. "We didn't think much of it at first, you see, your highness. The trained talking falcons that often ride out on our wrists will keep up with him and alert us to where he is before it is time to go back home to Cair Paravel, we thought." He shook his head and sighed deeply. "We thought a great folly. For soon the falcons lost his track; then the old coon dog that chases the non-talking hares could not find him either-and you know how dearly that poor mutt loves your father. Worse, even our best hounds couldn't locate him again. We called his name-oh, how we called it out! Crying out as if there was no end, and now, we return to you. We return to you with our hats in our hands to beg your understanding and forgiveness, we did not mean to lose your father-he was a good king and we loved him."

Peter noticed that 'our hats in our hands' wasn't only a metaphor, because most of the hunters and traveling companions who had been with the party that day did indeed hold their caps with trembling fingers. Fingers that trembled, not from fear of what might happen to them, but of what might be happening to their dear leader; the one they trusted, the one whom Aslan himself had placed on the throne as king.

And just where was poor desolate King Frank at that very moment? He was lost in the forest, stumbling about the deepest ends, with only his golden-saddled non-talking horse for company. He could find no one and as night had come and gone and dawn itself had passed in the leafy-green shaded sky above him, the poor king began to think he might never find his way out. Perhaps, because of the sting of losing his dear sweet Helen (his beloved queen whom he used to call 'Nellie') he might not have minded the possibility of dying alone in the forest if not for his subjects-and even more so-his four lovely, innocent, good children whom he knew would be at home eagerly awaiting his return.

Then a wicked, albeit very beautiful, face appeared in front of him. Of course King Frank knew and remembered her at once and shuddered at the realization that the evil thing had found her way back into Narnia, somehow over-coming the protection Aslan has always given their kingdom and country. The hair stood up like sharp needles on the back of his neck as he recalled how strong this monstrous lady had always been; how she had flung that lamppost, how her grip was the strongest any poor human had ever been threatened with.

"Hello, Cabby." She said in a chill tone, all seven feet of her towering over this relatively tall king. "Do you remember me?"

He gulped and he knew his eyes were as big as saucers, but he forced a look of bravery and defiance into them.

"Lost are we?" She said, her fishy, perfectly ice-blue eyes locking unwaveringly on his own.

He wanted to cry out, "No, I am not lost! Get away from me, you horrible witch, you!" and swing himself onto his horse and ride, ride, ride deeper still into the forest praying that she would not follow in pursuit. But he could not do that at all, he couldn't look away from her. He could only stand and gap at her, at her might, at her eyes, at his own fear, at his own fast-holding revulsion.

This lady did not expect or need an answer from him. "I will help you get out of this forest alive...I am too good to you, I know...but there is one small condition that you must fulfill."

Still shaking in his boots, the usually very brave king listened to her explain the 'condition' and shook his head. "No, I would rather die here alone with my good beast than make such an unholy alliance with evil itself."

"Then I guess you'll die."

"If Aslan wills it, so be it." A little bit of his bravery and valor were coming back to him and a slight rush of colour returned to his pale white cheeks.

"I suppose your four royal brats will mourn for you soon just as they mourn for their mother now." She showed no mercy.

Those words were like an arrow in Frank's heart; like a knife slashing at his unprotected chest. Oh, how he fought against her reasoning, how he tried desperately to make himself strong from the inside out-thinking of everything from Aslan to goodness and honour themselves, but it was all to no avail in the end. When all was said and done, he had weakened and given into her. The next thing the broken-hearted man who had once been a cabby and was now a weary king and lonely father knew, he was ridding out of the forest back to Cair Paravel with Narnia's greatest enemy seated behind him clinging to his waist.

Looking out from a low tower window while practicing stitching red and orange ribbons into snowy-white parkas and embroidering little daisy-chains onto some spare quilts, trying to distract her mind from the constant worry about her father, Susan heard hoof-beats on the courtyard ground below. And there was also the sound of her younger brother and her little sister crying out, "Father's back! I see him, I see him!"

With that, Susan dropped her work haphazardly off her lap and onto the stone floor and rushed down the staircase where she passed by Peter who was also on his way to the courtyard.

"There you are!" He exclaimed, grabbing onto her wrist and pulling her along with him. "Let's go see what's kept him so long."

"He probably just got lost." Susan panted practically, trying in vain to run along with her brother and to speak clearly at the same time.

It was Lucy who reached her father first-her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling with excitement. Then she caught sight of the white-skinned, very tall, glacial beauty he was half-heartedly helping off of the back of his horse.

In one glance, Lucy learned to hate her and-yes, sadly-to fear her; knowing from the start that this woman wasn't a friend at all, but a very wicked, evil, and cruel person indeed.

Edmund reached his father and his father's new companion next and was instantly struck, not at first by the horror that over-came his clever, innocent-minded little sister, but by admiration for how very lovely she was. A prettier lady-with the possible exception of his older sister who grew better-looking with each passing day-he had never before laid eyes on. Her smile was cold but he managed to tell himself that perhaps she didn't mean it to be so and that she might only be a little bit nervous about coming to meet them.

The last to meet her were of course Susan and Peter who arrived a couple of minutes after Edmund and though at first glance they saw only what their brother had seen-the woman's stunning looks, they were wise enough to peer back at her for a second time and to see the evil their little sister had already discovered in that lovely face.

"Children," King Frank announced in a voice that was supposed to sound cheerful but came across as rather dismal and forged. "I have something to tell you all." Blinking back the tears forming in his eyes, unable to fully mask his great sorrow, he clasped the beautiful stranger's hands in his own. "This is Lady Jadis. She and I are going to be wed tomorrow."

Peter and Edmund stood dumb-struck, unable to decide on how to react to the news. Susan, sickened by the idea of anyone-good or bad-trying to take their mother's place, gritted her teeth and took a step back to glare at Jadis, their soon-to-be stepmother.

As for Lucy, she promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around Peter's waist for comfort though there was nothing he could do to make it better.


	2. Fear at Cair Paravel

_We live in fear, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_Things keep on happening, scary things._

_Staircases randomly crumble 'accidentally' under our feet,_

_A branch from a tree in our apple orchard breaks off suddenly as Peter and I are walking under it._

_Lucy finds a poisonous snake in her toy-box, ready to bite her._

_The only one who doesn't fall victim to a near-death experience at least once, is Edmund (With the exception of the staircase-all of us were on it at the time)_

_This is because he is the only one of us who doesn't hate her passionately and she knows it._

_He is the only one of us she has a chance of manipulating if she plays her cards right; she knows that, too._

_Oh, she pretends that she knows nothing of the horrors we-at least three of us-have started to face daily, hourly, and at times even by the minute._

_Her voice is smooth but it is also hard and there are always those icy-stares she can't mask-she cannot completely hide from us what she is._

_"You are a witch!" I want to scream so badly. I want to point my finger at her and scream it. "You ought to be burned at the stake, not living as queen in our castle, pretending we are your own children."_

_but I am too scared._

_Not just for me, but for all of us. All four of us, even Edmund._

_Our stepmother, Jadis-whom I in my thoughts call, "The white witch"- doesn't slap you or call names,_ _she barely even bothers to get mad at all; rather, she just gets even._

_She gets even when you least expect it._

_The servant who cried out to warn us just before the stairs seemingly dissolved under our feet 'falls' from a tower two days later._

_The gardener who threw himself at me and Peter before the branch hit us, 'slips' while pruning the bushes two days later._

_We bury him in the very garden he has always loved so much._

_Right next to the reddish-gold lilies._

_They were his favorite flowers._

_The chambermaid who pulled Lucy out of harm's way and trampled that horrid snake to death..._

_well, no one knows for sure how her end came about..._

_she just sort of disappeared._

_Sort of like we might one day if things don't change soon._

* * *

The bathing antechamber was one of the most comfortable rooms in Cair Paravel. It had a lofty dome-shaped celing with the image of a compass-rose painted on it, supported by four large pinkish-white marble columns with gold-ring bases, forming four good-sized archways.

In each arch, was a nook with a golden chest full of pretty playthings and other valuables, as well as a shelf of books pertaining to each of the children's interests. Peter's shelf had books mostly about history and science while Edmund's shelf was full of books about sword-fighting and horses. Susan's shelf contained several books on dresses and fashion as well as two large dictionaries so she could increase her vocabulary-she did love the rush of saying smart-sounding words to people who didn't expect her to know them. Lucy, being neither so serious or studious as her brothers and sister were, had lots of books of myths and fairy stories that were fairly teaming with pictures and long conversations packed like sardines into her shelf.

To the left of each chest and shelf, was a silver door with the first letter of each of the children's names on them. Behind those doors each child had his or her own room to bathe in; each one containing a large silver-tub so spacious that Lucy could have done laps in it had she been just a very little bit younger and a large red-brick fireplace to warm up the jugs of water they poured over their heads on the colder winter nights.

In the antechamber itself, was a soft satin-covered sofa, four engraved rocking chairs, many soft cushions stuffed with swan-feathers, and plenty of little tables for them to play board-games and do puzzles on.

Peter and Edmund had already had their baths and were relaxing in their night-clothes, trying to put together a small cardboard puzzle which they assumed was going to be a lion when it was finished.

"Put the piece with the blue on the edge over on that side, Ed." Peter suggested as they sorted through the box the puzzle had been stored in; it was a brand-new one so they weren't completely sure where every bit of it went. "It must be the sky behind the main part of the picture."

Susan yawned and walked over to her silver door. "I'm going to have my bath now." She looked over at Lucy who was braiding the pieces of silk threads that had come loose from an old shawl. "You ought to have one, too, Lucy."

"But I want to stay out here with Peter and Edmund." Lucy protested, for some reason or other-perhaps something Jadis had caused to happen on that day had frightened her to this point-more attached to her brothers than usual.

"You can't keep skipping." Susan told her almost crossly. Lucy wasn't the only one who was scared but her increasing desire to be constantly underfoot was getting in the way of her bathing schedule and as neither Peter nor Edmund were going to do anything about it, Susan knew it was up to her. "You're starting to smell."

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, not sure what the big deal was. "So what? Edmund smells bad all the time and we get along just fine."

"Hey now!" Edmund exclaimed, feeling rather insulted, his dark eyebrows sinking deeply into his forehead.

"Pooh to baths." Lucy muttered, turning her attention back to braiding the shawl-threads.

"Lucy, I mean it." Susan said firmly, planting her hands on her hips. "Take a bath this very instant."

"Yes, Mum." Edmund teased in a sing-songy voice, making Lucy giggle wildly and Susan scowl furiously.

Peter reached over and slapped his brother upside the head.

"Ouch!" Edmund pouted, a scowl similar to the one Susan wore forming on his own face as he reached up to rub the back of his head.

"Alright, Su." Lucy sighed heavily, brushing the shawl-threads off her lap as she stood up and headed over to the silver door with the L on it. "You win."

"It's for your own good, sweetie." Susan said tenderly to remind her little sister that she was not angry with her before opening her own silver door, stepping in, and shutting it behind her.

Not bothering to glance at the water, Susan undressed herself and reached for her hair brush to comb out any knots that might had formed in her long dark hair so that it didn't get worse when it was wet or else snag on the ends of the tub. Then she kicked off her soft white reindeer-hide slippers (not made from a _talking_ reindeer of course) and walked on the cool marble floor with her eyes closed until her big toe struck lightly against the side of the tub. Sighing contentedly, she lifted her leg. Sometimes she thought warm baths were the only things she could enjoy without constantly whipping her head this way and that waiting for the ax to fall.

As soon as the tips of her toes touched the water, she pulled it away with a sharp yelp. The tub was full of lukewarm water that was a horrible dark green colour. Little bubbles that looked like they were boiling but were really as cold as ice were bursting at it's horrid foaming surface. Her poor toes felt like they were on being bitten repeatedly by red ants.

She fumbled around for her towel but it felt like sand-paper against her burning feet so she tossed it aside letting a terrified shriek die on her lips just as three large red frogs hopped out of the deathly water, croaking at her. Their eyes gleamed bright scarlet like that of wild mongooses and Susan was even more frightened now.

Dizzy with fear, her head spinning wildly out of control, she threw her silk dressing gown over herself and raced out the door, back to the safety of the bathing antechamber. She slammed the door behind her and pressed her back against it, tears streaming down her face as her back slid along the smooth-though engraved-surface until her bottom touched the embroidered rug on the floor below.

Peter was instantly at her side. "Susan?" He helped her to her feet and felt her quivering violently in his arms. This wasn't like her; something was very wrong. "What happened?"

Susan felt her throat close and for a moment no sound could come out of her mouth. "Water...frogs...burns..." she stammered like a mad-woman, blinking away the tears that blinded her and turned her brother's concerned face into a sandy-coloured blur before her eyes.

"You're scared because a frog was in your bath?" Edmund, who hadn't bothered to get up from his seat in spite of his sister's crying and screaming, said incredulously. He shook his head and let out a condescending whistle. "Girls!"

Without another word, Susan lifted her foot onto Peter's slightly bent knee so he could see her toes. "Burns..." She repeated weakly.

His jaw dropped open and his eyes widened in pure horror when he saw the toes for himself. They felt cold-as-ice to the touch (in fact he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if his own leg turned black-and-blue because of making contact with them) but the skin on them bubbled up into hideous, unsightly bumps as though she had dropped a pot of boiling water on them, resulting in a scalding.

"By the Lion!" He cried out, grabbing onto Susan's wrist and pulling her into a corner so he could help her take care of the burns.

He put cool water from a basin in his own washing room on them and found the smoothest towels possible to try and wipe off whatever had caused the injury in the first place with but still she wept and babbled on from the pain because it would not lessen. No matter how gentle he was, no matter what he tried, the burns still hurt like knifes of ice cutting into her flesh over and over.

"Wait..." He said suddenly, remembering now that his other little sister had also gone to take a bath and fearing that something just as horrifying might have happened to her, too. "Lucy...is she all right?"

Feeling awful for not having thought about her sooner, Susan bit her trembling lower lip and whispered, "I don't know."

A second later, Lucy's silver door open and she came out as clean and fresh as newly fallen snow, dressed in a strange-but lovely-gown the colour of sunshine itself that they had never seen before, carrying two red-as-blood poppies tucked under the folds of one arm.

"What's happened to Susan?" She gasped when she saw her sister's tear-stained face and her hurt toes.

"Didn't you hear her screaming?" Edmund asked casually, still not quite realizing how nerve-racking the whole situation truly was; perhaps because he, like his siblings, had always had everything he wanted, had been exposed to very few real threats in his life, and didn't, unlike his siblings, truly believe their stepmother, Jadis, was as evil as everyone said she was. "There was a frog in her bath."

Lucy's eyes widened and she took a step closer to her sister now. "Oh, Su, there were frogs in mine, too!"

"But your feet..." Peter looked down at Lucy's feet and found nothing but smooth, well-washed, unruined skin.

"The first frog jumped on my head and the other one on my chest," Lucy explained sort of timidly, showing them the poppies on her arms. "but they turned into poppies. And there was one more frog, he was uglier than all the rest of them. He jumped onto my dressing gown and he turned into a flower, too, but only for a moment before the robe turned into this pretty dress and he was gone..."

As she leaned over her sister's feet, one of the poppies fell from her arms and landed on the burns, healing them instantly.

Now free of the searing pain, Susan could think clearly again. "But Lucy, the water...surely there was something amiss with the water?"

"I didn't notice." Lucy admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that she hadn't been paying closer attention. "It felt fine. It seemed very clean when I got in it."

"Peter, look! It's not a Lion after all." Edmund said, having finished the puzzle by himself and discovering what the picture was.

It was of a sharp, rigid-looking snowflake in a crude, bitterly malicious parody of what a real snowflake under a microscope might look like. And although it was not a real creature, the longer your looked at it, the more thought for sure that it was leering at you. It could leer even without a mouth or eyes or any human characteristics, with an inhuman coldness that made chills run up and down the spine.

Lucy reached the puzzle before Peter did, and the second poppy fell off her arm and landed on it. Instantly, the snowflake's edges softened and became pretty before melting away and turning into a handsome lion cub with a sweet, loving expression on his face.

"I thought you said it wasn't a lion, Ed." Peter blinked at the finished puzzle before him in deep confusion.

"That's right." Edmund nodded, looking at Lucy, then at Peter, and then back at the puzzle again. "It _wasn't_."

Later that night, Peter heard someone knocking on his bedchamber door. He knew that it was one of his sisters because they were the only persons who ever visited in the middle of the night; Edmund rarely did and the servants and father never had. So he opened it and let her in, it was Susan.

She sat at the foot of his bed and looked up at him with one of the saddest expressions he had ever seen. "I'm really scared, Peter."

"I know." He sat down next to her and took her hand to in his for comfort. "But you're safe now and we're terribly lucky that nothing bad happened to Lucy, aren't we?"

" _Lucky_!" Susan snorted, looking at her eldest brother indignantly. "Us? Peter, do you know how close to dying we've come in the past week alone? Remember the staircase? And Lucy's toy box? And the branch? It's _her_ , I just _know_ it!"

In his heart, Peter knew it, too but he was afraid to admit it for so many reasons. Admitting they were all truly in danger meant-in his mind, at least-admitting that he could not protect them, and he loved them too much to think of that. And maybe, though he hated to admit this as well, he had a little too much pride to allow room for the notion that someone more powerful than their whole royal family put together was trying to do them in.

"We'll think of something, Su." He said consolingly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything will be fine in the end, you'll see." He gave her a friendly half-smile but it did not comfort her in the least.

"What I don't understand," Susan said shortly, shaking her head in dismay. "Is why that witch would put frogs that turn into poppies and clear water in Lucy's bath when I know how much she hates her."

"Oh," Peter shrugged his shoulders, having sort of figured it out. "I don't think she did. I think Jadis forgot to take into account how innocent and piteous Lucy's nature is and how powerful such things can be against evil. She's much younger than you, Su, and she's buried her face in Aslan's mane more than any of us. It's made her stronger somehow, I think."

Susan crinkled her forehead. "Poppies aren't exactly innocent-like flowers."

"I think if Jadis was less evil, Lucy could have turned them to roses instead." Peter told her with another shrug of his shoulders. "And maybe if they had been roses and not poppies, the snowflake puzzle might have turned into Aslan's likeness instead of a regular lion cub."

The door to his bedchamber opened again and Lucy walked in, looking at her older siblings with a tired, weary expression on her young harmless face. "I couldn't sleep."

"You can both sleep in here with me tonight, if you want." Peter offered as his poor, anxious sisters snuggled up close to him and he reached over to blow out the tall candle in the golden-holder on his cherry-wood nightstand.

"Please don't blow it out." Lucy begged him. She didn't want to be in the dark all night, thinking about what had happened to her sister earlier and about the snake in her toy-box.

Susan breathed a sigh of relief as Peter sucked his breath back in and left the candle burning. She would have never admitted it for fear of being teased because she was 'afraid of the dark' but she hadn't wanted him to blow it out anymore than Lucy had.

In another part of Cair Paravel, Edmund couldn't sleep either. Unlike his sisters, he would have never gone into his brother's room to seek comfort and security; he thought it rather babyish of Susan to do so and only to be expected of a little sheepish thing like Lucy. So he strolled the hallways and corridors and vestibules by himself, hoping that sleepiness would over-take him sooner or later.

After he and been walking a while in a part of the castle he didn't often travel he entered a room where a fire as blue-gray as an early winter's sky had been lit and saw, standing there, looking at him with a beckoning half-smile, was Jadis, his stepmother.

"Um...I..." Edmund stammered bewilderedly, unsure of what to say as they had never said more than two words to each other and had most certainly never been left alone in the same room. "Er, Hullo, you um...highness? I mean majesty...I mean...um..."

"Come here, son of Adam." She said sweetly, taking a step towards him.

"Our father's name is Frank." Edmund blurted out, feeling a little surprised that she didn't even know her own husband's name.

"I know, dear." She said taking another step towards him, getting closer and closer.

For a fleeting moment, Edmund was filled with dread and horror, for deep down, the heart of Edmund was good-like that of his father and brother and sisters-and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that Jadis was, if not evil, at least, very bad. But Jadis put her beautiful strong white hand on his shoulder and he forgot his fears, his wit, and his knowledge all at once.

"Who do I remind you of?" She asked gently.

Remind me of? Edmund thought-feeling very confused, you don't remind me of anyone at all, we've only just met so recently and I've never known anyone like you before.

Then Jadis, having no natural affection for the poor torn minds of helpless children, did something very strange without even seeming to move a muscle. Her face changed just a little and Edmund, blinking and rubbing his right eye repeatedly with the back of his free hand realized she did remind him of someone after all. Someone from a distant memory. Someone who's face he had almost forgotten and had never expected to see again.

"Mother." Edmund said weakly, peering up into the witch's false face.

Of course it wasn't exactly like Queen Helen-for she would have never worn such a horrible expression of nasty triumph on her face. Still, she had died when Edmund was very small and it was close enough to convince him that Jadis was a rather motherly person after all and that maybe father had made a good decision in bringing her home to them. After all, no one could prove that it was her fault that any of the scary things had been happening. They were only accidents, it could just be a misunderstanding. All of those people who whispered nasty rumors about her were her enemies and she was being so kind to him just now, wasn't she? What had happened to Susan earlier must not have been her fault either, not really. How could a harmless woman who's face sometimes looked so much like his dear dead mother's do something so cruel? The answer was that she simply couldn't.

Back in Peter's chamber, the candle suddenly spluttered and flickered out into a little ring of smoke of its own accord, leaving them in complete darkness.

She's doing something worse to us now, Susan thought-throwing her arms around her little sister and pulling herself closer to her eldest brother, I don't know what, but I can feel it.


	3. Lies and Queen Helen's Ring

_We live in a castle full of lies and false tell-tales, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_Fear hasn't done us in...yet..._

_by some miracle we keep on living_

_by some miracle we keep from going mad_

_Each day, Edmund pulls further away from us and closer to her._

_One day, he even calls her, 'Mother Jadis'._

_I repay him by smacking him across the face as hard as I can._

_Peter is angry with me;_

_he says I may as well have just picked our little brother up and thrown him at the witch's feet for all the good I accomplished._

_Peter forgives me...in time..._

_So does Edmund...in time..._

_but I don't forgive myself._

_Lucy cries a lot now and laughs a lot less._

_That White Witch is tearing us apart, bit by bit,_

_but that alone is not good enough for her._

_She must also start the lies, the horrible, unbelievable, completely deceitful lies._

_Who does she tell them to?_

_Not me._

_Not Peter._

_Not Lucy._

_No, not even Edmund._

_The king._

_Narnia's king._

_King Frank._

_Her husband._

_She tells them to our father._

_She lies to him._

_The question is, what will he do about it?_

* * *

When she was alive, Queen Helen of Narnia owned a little finger-ring made of gold inlaid with diamond clusters that went around it like a circlet. Because he was the first born, and it was his right, when Peter grew up and found a woman he wanted to marry, he would inherit the ring so that he might give it to her.

Since they were quite small, his two youngest siblings had rather enjoyed teasing him about it and it had becoming something of a long-running joke that Peter could only marry a woman who's finger fit the ring.

"That's silly," Susan would say in a very practical tone when Edmund-and even Lucy when she was in a more playful mood-had spent a little too much time teasing their brother about the matter. "Everyone knows father would just send it out to have it fitted for whomever Peter decides to marry."

"Oh, where's the fun in _that_?" Edmund would answer in a mischievous, pretend-glum voice, causing Lucy to giggle so hard that she had to hold onto her side and tears of laughter would spring up into her eyes.

Queen Helen's ring was kept on a red-velvet pillow with golden buttons and violet thread sewn around the sides and edges placed on a small, flat surfaced pillar; which stood in the middle of a little sitting-room behind a rather inconspicuous, oval-shaped, low-standing wooden door branching off from the main throne room.

Susan had chosen the room to work on her embroidery pattern of little grape-vines in because she wasn't certain if Jadis even knew that it existed at all and would have been less likely to have a trap set up for her there. Lucy, who seemed to have attached herself more so to Susan after Edmund started pulling away, had taken a small golden ball and followed her sister into the room, rolling her shinny play-thing on the slightly uneven floor for amusement.

Absent-mindedly, Lucy let her fingers slide the golden ball the wrong way and it rolled well passed its intended target-the rug on the left side of the room-and headed towards the door which was opening. A boot stepped in and the ball struck against its side. It was Peter; he had been looking for his sisters for most of the morning and was starting to fear perhaps Jadis had done something to them. So it was with a big sigh of relief that he picked up his littlest sister's ball, handed it back to her, and shut the door behind himself.

"What are you doing in here?" Peter asked them, not unkindly though a little tersely for all his trouble earlier when they really might have simply said where they were going and have spared him the worry.

"Because I don't think our, if I may quote our _lovely_ brother, 'Mother Jadis' knows about this room and a little peace once in a while would do us worlds of good." said Susan snappishly, threading her needle with a great deal more angry-vigor than before.

Peter opened his mouth to give her a bit of a scolding for speaking to him as if all of this were his fault, but then he saw the dark rings under her eyes from lack of sleep, noticed how much of the rosy-colour had already been snapped away from little Lucy's cheeks, and closed it again; he could see the tears glittering brightly in Susan's eyes. The poor thing, it wasn't her fault either.

The door opened again and all three of them held their breath and gaped at it, wide-eyed, until they spotted the familiar short dark hair and slightly-freckled, pale face. Edmund, they realized, feeling more than a little relieved, it's only Edmund and he's come alone.

"Hullo!" Edmund said, sounding a little bit like his old self again as opposed to the surly-faced, stepmother's boy they had come to know as of late. "What are we all doing today?"

"Hush, now." Susan pouted, stabbing the needle hastily into the fabric, missing her own lap by a mere-very lucky-half-inch.

"What's wrong, Su?" Edmund asked, strolling over to the side of her chair. Although he did look a little paler and a great deal more sickly than he had before Jadis had married their father and moved into Cair Paravel, he didn't seem to be tired and irritable like the rest of them, nor did he have as much trouble sleeping-or if he did, the places of the eyes that usually give a sleepless person away told Edmund's siblings nothing at all.

"I'm tired." Susan admitted rather peevishly, blinking back another round of tears both from lack of good rest and from out-right anger. Anger at her father for bringing Jadis home to them in the first place. Anger at Edmund for liking the horrid witch. Anger at herself for feeling so much hate building up in her heart over the matter and for slapping him. Anger at Aslan for not coming to kill the witch and rescue them. Anger at herself for not being patient. Just plain, cold, painful spurts of anger. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be numb and blind. To not see all the danger they were in. To not see the worried looks on Peter's face and her father's face and Lucy's much-too-young-for-that-sort-of-look face. To not feel little shivers racing up and down her spine when she thought about it all late at night, alone in the dark except for the candles she kept lighting, no longer afraid of being teased; she had bigger worries now.

Wordlessly, Lucy rolled the ball over to her youngest brother to see what he would do about it. Would he turn up his nose and walk away, going off somewhere so that he might cling to the witch's side? Or perhaps, might he be really and truly coming back to them, coming back to himself, and be willing to play with her again?

Edmund picked up the ball and gently tossed it back to her. His face seemed a bit torn; he wasn't completely himself-he was still greatly under their stepmother's control-but a little of the Edmund they had known and loved for so long was indeed shining through and Lucy couldn't have been happier about it.

Some of the colour flushed back into the little girl's sweet young face and she must have looked rather darling because the corners of Susan's mouth turned upwards for the first time in quite a good many days when she caught sight of her little sister's facial expression. Then, Peter gently poked her on the arm and-reminded of the good old times the four of them had once enjoyed together-Susan's smile widened as she looked up into her elder brother's face. Touched and greatly relieved by _her_ smile, he was soon wearing one of his very own as they watched Edmund and Lucy playing catch with the golden ball; forgetting, if only for that one moment, all about Jadis and her evilness.

As they played together Edmund even started telling jokes again, timing them so that Lucy was laughing too hard to catch the ball when he threw it so he would win the round. Unfortunately, during one of these rounds, the ball rolled much more off-course than Edmund had meant it to, and it crashed right into the little pillar holding up the ring, knocking the precious little treasure to the ground where it rolled around on its side until it stopped a little ways off from Susan's feet.

On the other side of the door, Jadis had been sitting in the throne room, enjoying being a cruel and-to her own taste and her own taste only-perfect queen, when she heard the crash and the clink of something hitting the floor behind the wall.

Being a witch and having very keen hearing, she soon tracked down the source of the disturbance to a small oval-shaped door and opened it to find the four children standing there, looking very fearful. Even Edmund did not seem very pleased to see his 'Mother Jadis' at that particular moment and was looking at her with a pale, nervous expression on his face. Poor Lucy looked like she might burst into tears and was clutching her golden ball so tightly that she could feel her fingers cramping up around the little glittering sphere she held in her hands. Peter took a step in front of his sisters and gulped, unsure of what to say or do.

As for Susan, she was the most shaken-up of them all for she had hoped desperately that this room might be a good secret hiding spot from evil and now those hopes were dashed to pieces. Jadis _did_ know about the room and she was standing right in front of them, seven feet of pure evil personified.

Suddenly, Susan thought of Helen's ring and was terrified that Jadis might see it and try to take it for herself. Thinking of her mother's ring-the ring that would someday belong to her future sister-in-law-being worn on the White Witch's hand, sickened her.

Perhaps, in spite of his new-found attachment to their stepmother, Edmund did not much like that idea either; because he whispered into Susan's ear, "Su, pick it up."

Obediently and swiftly, Susan crouched down slightly, bending backwards just a little bit until her finger made contact with the smooth gold and delightfully-rough diamonds. She managed to do this without being noticed by Jadis, but thinking her luck might soon run out, Susan quickly and silently slipped it onto her own ring finger, which she hid behind her back.

"Hello, children." Jadis said at last, with a sickly-sweet smile on her face. "What are you all doing in this drafty room instead of somewhere nicer to play? Of all the rooms in the castle, my dears, why pick the smallest and dreariest?"

Lucy, Peter, and Susan said nothing at all to her so Edmund felt that it was up to him to explain the situation away, certain that their wonderful, kind-hearted stepmother would understand (for now that she was present, he was falling back under her enchantment all over again).

"Oh, we just thought the floors were lovely for playing ball." Edmund came up with, smiling at the witch in such a child-like manner that it seemed almost ridiculous for a boy of his age to be looking at a grown-up with such awe.

"Well, come down into the dinning hall for the noon meal soon, my dears." Jadis told them, giving Susan and Peter a strange look. Her facial expression was as sweet as honey but it was far too exaggerated to be even a little convincing. There were too many 'gentle' folds in the corners of her mouth, too many teeth showing in that smile, and far too many chills running up and down the backs of three of the four children.

"She's probably put poison in our food as likely as not if she's bothering about our coming down to eat." Peter muttered, forgetting that he was trying to be somewhat in denial of the great danger the four of them were in.

"Brother, I wish you wouldn't talk about our dear stepmother in such a mean jest." Edmund said, a distant, dumbstruck look coming into his dark eyes which suddenly seemed very blank as if there was nothing at all except for fluff and blue-birds flying about in the poor boy's head.

Susan reached over put a hand on her younger brother's cheek. He cringed for a moment, thinking she was going to hit him, but then his facial muscles relaxed, realizing it was only a gesture of affection.

"What did she do to you?" Susan whispered, mostly to herself, looking into her little brother's lack-luster eyes.

Something scratched his cheek a little and Edmund pulled away, focusing on Susan's left hand.

Susan looked down at her ring-finger now and found, much to her great surprise, that Queen Helen's ring fit her perfectly. She must have had very similar hands to that of her late mother although she hadn't noticed or thought about it up until that moment.

"Whoa." said Edmund, blinking and taking a step back.

"It's lovely." Lucy whispered in a little breathy voice.

"It..." Peter's eyes widened, looking very hard at his sister's slim-fingered, pale-coloured hand, it was _exactly_ like their mother's. "It fits you."

"Let's show father!" Lucy suggested happily, when they had all recovered a little from their shock.

Peter smiled faintly-a pretend sort of smile people often use when trying to humour a small child. "Oh, let's not bother him, Lu, I'm sure he's very tired."

"I think he'd like to see it." Lucy insisted in a rather oblivious tone, wondering why her siblings looked so grave and stony-faced. Perhaps because she had never known her mother personally, Susan's finger fitting the ring struck her as more of an amusing turn of harmless events while to the others, recalling their mother and her face and-of course-her hands, it seemed a little scary and sort of sacrilegious.

As it was, Susan wished she had never slipped it on in the first place and was inwardly berating herself for being such an idiot. Why hadn't she just clutched it in the palm of her hands or placed it in the folds of her skirt, or else even slipped it into the pocket of little Lucy's smock when Jadis wasn't looking? Now the cursed thing was on her finger and everyone was looking at her funny. She especially hated the look on Peter's blood-drained face; as if he had been punched in the stomach or slapped unexpectedly across the face without warning.

"Does this mean Susan has to be queen now when Peter comes of age?" Edmund asked rather boldly, greatly assisted by the distance in his eyes and heart that kept a lot of his good emotions at bay. "Because the ring fits her?"

"What _are_ you implying, Ed?" Peter's tone was curt and dangerous, very concerned about his brother's mental well-being.

"No, no, not like that!" Edmund gasped, realizing suddenly why Susan looked very much like she wanted to throw-up and why Peter's brows were so deep in his forehead. "I meant as co-ruling as bachelor and old maid."

They blinked twice, saying nothing.

"As _siblings_." Edmund clarified slowly like he was talking to someone far less intelligent than himself.

Peter's face relaxed and Susan's own face lost the hideous puce colour it had developed over the last five seconds. Had they really lost touch with their brother to the extent that they'd thought even for a moment he would ever suggest something like that? Well, with someone who spent so much time with Jadis, you never knew; it wasn't really their fault.

Lucy tugged on Peter's tunic sleeve. "What did you think he was saying?"

He didn't answer her.

She didn't mind, she would just wait until he did.

To change the subject-anything to get out of that now accursed room-Peter rolled his eyes towards the door, leading Lucy away by the shoulders. "Come on, let's tell father about the ring."

Susan crept up behind her eldest brother and whispered in his ear, "He's starting to scare me, Peter, that look he gets in his eyes sometimes. It makes me so nervous."

"You see it, too?" He whispered back, letting go of Lucy and nudging her in Edmund's direction so she could walk along side him-keep an eye on him as well-and he could talk to Susan without Lucy over-hearing.

"It's almost as if I _expect_ him to say obscene things, even though he doesn't." Susan answered sadly.

"Maybe we're just being paranoid about Edmund, Su. He wasn't suggesting anything bad, not really; he's not _so_ much less innocent than Lucy." Peter said, trying to calm her down. "We don't know that Ja-" he stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"She _did_ do something to him, I know it." Susan insisted, almost tearfully. "I can see it in his face all the time, can't you?"

"Sometimes." Peter admitted sadly. "But not always."

"What sort of things do you think that witch talks about with him?" Susan wanted to know.

"I don't know." Peter whispered, glancing a little ways ahead to where Edmund and Lucy were walking in front of them.

"Me either." Susan explained, lowering her voice even more now. "That's what scares me the most."

"Listen, let's not talk about this now, I think he's getting suspicious." Peter glanced at the back of Edmund's head again, certain that the boy was lingering back to catch a little bit of whatever it was they were saying. "And you know he might just tell her everything we say."

"I don't want to show father the ring." Susan said suddenly, her voice weak and flattered.

"It might make him happy." Peter had to admit.

"Why?"

"Because it'll remind him of mum at the very least."

"Father! Father, look!" Lucy cried out when she finally found King Frank sitting alone on a bench in one of the royal gardens. He looked very unwell, his face suddenly swooped with age he did not really have the years to back up nor to handle, his hair grayer than before-almost a silvery white. He seemed dazed and lonely and for some reason or other kept on looking at the place where the old gardener who had died recently used to work as if the poor king didn't understand why the dead man wasn't there anymore.

He did look up and smile when he saw his youngest daughter racing towards him. Oh, what a sweet, tender, loving child she had always been! How much he did love her! And his other children, too. Why was it he had been sitting there moping about instead of looking after them in the first place? I must be bewitched or something-it's that awful Jadis, no doubt, he thought brokenly.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He asked in as cheerful a voice he could force out of his throat.

"Guess who mother's ring fits?" Lucy said, unable to stop bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet from excitement. Wait until father saw it for himself!

Had some of the other castle children (perhaps daughters of the servants or other nobles) been trying it on? Did one of them have a hand like his Nellie had had? Such beautiful hands, his wife had, so like...so very much like...Someone had placed a ring-wearing hand in front of him now. He looked up. It was his own daughter, Susan! She had the same hands.

And Frank smiled politely, told them it was a nice coincidence, and retired back upstairs in his chambers alone away from them, away from everyone.

Everyone except for his horrid witch of a wife who knew exactly where to find him and what horrible things to tell him. She'd been saying things about his children-little minor things here and there but it was time for the big one. The biggest lie of all, the one to push him into not caring about where they were; at least the two eldest ones.

"Husband?" She said softly.

"Go away, witch." King Frank said. From his voice, it was apparent that he was crying into his hands. He was lonely and broken and torn and he only wanted his first wife back, his original love and close relationship with his children back. He wanted _them_ , not her.

"Is it the ring that's got you so upset?" Jadis asked coyly, taking a bone-chilling step closer to him. "It was a horrible stunt for him to pull on you, don't you think?"

"What are you talking about?" The king demanded crossly.

Greatly twisting the events that had actually happened in the ring-room-which of course she had gotten Edmund to tell her everything about-she shrugged and said, "Well, you know, that eldest boy of yours...I mean, you don't think he was glad the ring fit his sister for well...his _own_ reasons...?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder.

Of course, the entire exchange between Peter and Susan over the ring had been completely innocent and the _thought_ of it being anything else-especially if implied by their own brother whom they loved so dearly-was what had made the poor harmless children sick to their stomachs, but Jadis thought spinning the story her way and using a little bit of her own charming ways, might dissuade the king from loving them just enough for her to put her full plan into action.

Frank did not believe her even a little, or at least, he did not want to; but somehow or other she had gotten a hold on him and sometimes, just every once in a while, when he glanced at his two eldest children from this or that shadowy corner when they didn't know he was there, he thought-or was tricked into thinking-he caught a bad look passing between them. If he had loved Jadis even a little bit, he might have been completely convinced. Because, however, he did not, because he still remembered who-and what-she really was, the clever king soon realized it was all a mean trick being played on his heart and eyes. He knew _all_ of his children were good of heart and suddenly his eyes were opened for real. And with that, he saw everything, the danger the poor young souls were in, the awful companionship that had developed between Edmund and Jadis, the sadness coming into Lucy's eyes day by day.

I must protect them somehow, Frank thought-racking his mind desperately for a way out for his beloved children, there must be somewhere safe they can go.

Now Frank remembered something. A spool of thread unlike any other he had ever encountered. He remembered who'd given it to him and what they'd said it could be used for. Yes, that was the answer. He would do it. He would do it that very night. His children would suffer at the hands of Jadis not one day longer.


	4. A secret holiday

_We are woken up in the middle of the night, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_It is King Frank, our father._

_He whispers something to us about a special surprise;_

_a sort of 'secret holiday' he calls it._

_He is trying to sound excited and happy as he ushers us into quickly packing our things and going down to the stable and saddling up our horses._

_We try to make as little noise as possible._

_Father says it's more fun that way;_

_But of course I know the real reason-who we're really trying to avoid._

_Edmund's horse, Phillip, lets out a whinny._

_That poor horse has been acting very strangely ever since Edmund started spending time with Jadis._

_He's a talking horse so we are able to reason with him until he is willing to stand in place but he does look so very nervous as Ed climbs up onto his back._

_I am afraid that Edmund will lead his horse astray because he doesn't want to leave 'Mother Jadis'._

_Thankfully Phillip is a good horse and wont allow him to do so._

_Peter looks sleepy and nervous but he doesn't linger or speak or try to make a fuss._

_He helps Lucy to get her horse properly tacked and then assists father in helping her onto the mare's back._

_I have already gotten my horse ready on my own and my saddle bag is packed and loaded properly._

_I must set the example._

_I don't know when Father will let us come back._

_I have no idea how long this 'secret holiday' will really last for._

_Maybe for ever._

_Maybe we're never coming home again._

_But I don't dare ask._

_It will surely ruin everything if I do;_

_I just know it will._

_I can't risk lingering, nor do I want to._

_Still, I do peer back over my shoulder once at the castle of Cair Paravel._

_It was our home._

_Peter is the only one who notices me doing this._

_I lie and say I was only making sure Edmund was still behind me._

_Goodbye, Cair Paravel, farewell-though I know you cannot._

* * *

They had been riding in pure darkness for hours and hours, getting further and further away from Cair Paravel when King Frank finally allowed Peter to light a lantern.

"Why couldn't we light it before?" Edmund demanded crossly, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he spoke. "It's been pitch black for hours; how did you even know we were going the right way? We could have been led off a cliff."

"Father wouldn't lead us off a cliff." Lucy yawned sleepily, her head drooping just a little and her eye-lids fighting to stay open.

Peter brought his horse closer to Lucy's now. "She can't stay awake much longer, father."

King Frank nodded and forced another smile, hoping the darkness around them-with the exception of the lantern's light-would keep his children from seeing how bleak the smile was. Supposing his plan didn't work and...no, he couldn't bear to think of that, not now...it _would_ work, it simply had to.

"Peter, take Lucy onto your horse with you." King Frank suggested, reaching over and whispering something in the ear of Lucy's horse along the lines of, "You must keep up with us; don't stray or I shall have to tie you and lead you along with me."

The horse obeyed him, standing still only long enough for Peter to reach over and gently pluck poor little Lucy from her saddle and place her on his own horse in front of him. As soon as she felt her brother's horse's saddle under her, the poor child's head hit the soft grey-and-white spotted mane and she was out like a light. Worried she would fall off when they started moving again, Peter took off the leather belt he was wearing around the middle of his tunic and strapped it around Lucy and the silver-hilted pommel of the saddle. There. That should do the trick.

Susan's eyes had to fight to stay open as well but she forced them wide-awake by reminding herself of how afraid she was of Jadis and how this must be father's way of helping them escape her evil clutches and also how she must set an example, especially for Edmund. She didn't know much about evil enchantments or what did or did not effect a torn, bewitched child but she was well-aware that good behavior could rub off at least somewhat. After all, hadn't it been all the time he'd spent with Jadis that had turned her poor little brother into something dour and loathsome? If she forced herself to be as good as possible, couldn't it just possibly turn him back-at least a little bit?

A while later the sun rose, casting warm lights of golden-green from the canopy of trees above them and little shadows of purple-pink from the dust and early-morning fog lingering close to the ground. King Frank urged them not to stop for too long to look at it, promising that once they arrived at their destination, they could watch as many sunrises as their hearts desired.

When the sun got a very little higher-though not a great deal warmer because it was late autumn and the morning air always carried a slight chill at that hour-Lucy's eyes snapped open. She seemed dazed and confused as if she did not remember why she was strapped to Peter's horse or even why she was on a horse at all instead of in a bed back at Cair Paravel. She blinked rapidly until it all came back to her, all except for the part where she had gotten off of her own horse and onto Peter's-though she did vaguely remember being lifted up.

Although the three older children could all wait to eat until later, Lucy's stomach growled so much that Peter very nearly pleaded with their father to allow them to rest just for a few moments so that he might get something out of his pack for Lucy to eat. At first, Frank kept on shaking his head, insisting they must go further and faster until at last, he could deny his son's request no longer and had to agree to the short rest.

They all sat under a great oak tree which King Frank was pretty sure belonged to a good dryad (he'd have never allowed his dear children to sit under it if it belonged to the other kind) that when awake took the form of a tall, somber, but harmless old man with a silvery beard and robes made of wild-flowers and mushrooms. Peter took some food out of his pack and all four of the children ate. Much as they pressed their father to eat something also, he shook his head, anxious to carry on. To settle their fears, he told them that he was too excited to see the looks on their faces when they saw the surprise secret holiday place he had for them and his excitement was taking away his appetite.

Lucy seemed to believe him, not used to be lied to by anyone-much less her father-very often but she also was a little worried, quite certain that there must be something else bothering him, too. Something that went beyond excitement and games and surprises.

Edmund didn't believe him but he was sleepy and groggy and could not shake the awful feeling that someone was tugging on the back of his shirt constantly, trying to pull him backwards. He had already accused his siblings of being the culprits but they had proved it wasn't them after all, so in the end he had to admit that either something unnatural was pulling him or else he was imagining it.

Peter tired not to think of anything at all except for following father's orders and getting them to where ever they needed to be. There would be time to think later. What ever the reason father was taking them away from home was his own business but as his children, they had to obey and try to be responsible and brave.

It was Susan who thought the most about her poor father as they traveled along the road because there was nothing else for her to do. She couldn't drink in the beauty of the day both because she was too nervous and also because they were moving by it far too quickly to see much of anything. She couldn't think of Edmund any longer because it was driving her to madness and she willed herself to focus on something-anything-else for just a couple of hours so that she could keep herself in her right mind; she had the feeling that she would need to keep her wits about her.

So she found herself thinking about their father and the sadness behind his faux-smiles and loving pats on the heads of Edmund and Lucy; and couldn't help gaping at him just a little as the realization that her father-though he was just barely middle-aged-was starting to look so very old. His hair was growing whiter each day, most of his soft creases and lovely dimples that had surely been adored by their mother when she was alive had faded into thick wrinkles around the lips and eyes, and his hands shook as they held the reins as if he could just barely lead his own horse. If anyone needed a 'secret holiday' it was _him_ more than his children, she thought sadly.

By the time afternoon came around and Susan could no longer stand to look at her father's now-flushed face, she turned again to her younger brother and found something quite delightful. Now that they were further away from Jadis than they had been in a long time, he was starting to look much better. His face didn't look as sickly and life seemed to be slowly returning into his dull eyes (all he himself noticed was that the awful tugging had finally seemed to let up a bit). A smile came to his lips, a real one-not a sneer, and Susan felt her heart soar. Things were looking up. Maybe they would all be safe from her when they reached their destination. Clearly the witch's grip on them was already loosening. Wasn't it even possible that by evening, father's hair might start turning back to gray and maybe even to brown? There was hope, for the first time since the incident with that awful ring, Susan felt a little quiver of joy in place of her regular fear running up and down her spine.

They rode on and on all day, making only the most necessary stops to eat and drink until finally they came to a place in a wood they thought they knew pretty well although it had been a very long time since Peter and Susan had been in that part of Narnia and Edmund and Lucy had never come to it before at all. It was a different forest-land from the ones they'd been traveling through all day long, prettier and richer, more full of songs of beginnings.

The red, yellow, and orange leaves falling from the trees seemed to glitter in the distance looking like little brown trickles of fairy-dust dropping from the branches, giving it a very magical appearance indeed. Being children, they of course wanted to look around and explore this pretty place but their father warned them once more to keep up with him and to not stop even for a moment.

"What about a rest?" Lucy asked, thinking how splendid it would be to look at the 'magic trees' all around them while they had some supper.

"We're nearly there." King Frank told her, not unkindly. "No need to stop now."

Then they came to a thicket in the middle of the wood where the horses tried but all-except for Phillip who was quite determined to stay with his young master, Prince Edmund-were unable to follow them into. King Frank took the packs off of the horses that could not come and carried some of them himself; Peter and Edmund carrying the ones he could not manage. In the thicket, they were greeted by a warm glowing light of a lantern set on-top of what Susan thought must be some sort of tree made of iron.

"It's called a lamppost." Peter whispered in her ear, somehow knowing what his sister was thinking. "I read about it in a book once, it's how this forest got its name."

Susan felt her heart sink. For now she had lost some faith in her father. What about a lamppost would protect them from Jadis? Was this the place? Would he really make them all stay _here_? And for one horrid moment the poor girl thought their father had simply taken them to the Lantern Waste to abandon them all until she saw him pull a strange little object out of the folds of his doublet.

It was a little spool of thread that was a queer almost-golden colour so lovely that at first she couldn't stop gaping at it but after a while had to look away because it was so intense it made her eyes ache.

"This spool of thread was given to me by a good dryad many years ago." King Frank explained to his children, holding it up in the light of the lamppost for them all to see. "It contains something very special woven into its material. Can you guess what it is, my children?"

"Um, monkey fur?" Edmund guessed randomly.

Peter slapped him upside the head.

"Well he said _guess_." Edmund defended himself, turning his head slightly to glare at his brother.

King Frank shook his head and let out a mild chuckle but he didn't wait for any of the others to try and guess. "Nay, Edmund, not monkey fur, _Lion's_ fur. A little of Aslan's own mane once caught on a thorn bush near where this good lady dryad lived and her daughter was such a fine spinner that she could make thread out of nearly anything so she tried the mane fur; and here, my dears, is the result."

"Can I _touch_ it?" Lucy blurted out, the mere thought of Aslan's fur being near-by giving her a great thrill.

Frank smiled at her innocence and goodness and he held out the spool of thread so she could touch it and rub the tips of her fingers along its soft lines. Then he took it back from her, tossing it on the ground right beside the lamppost. All of its own accord, the spool of thread unrolled and started heading in one general direction.

"Follow the thread." King Frank said, a deeply relieved expression coming onto his face, making it look a less little aged and troubled.

Lucy and Edmund-who seemed to have come almost completely back to his old self-let out little shrieks of joy and chased happily after it as if they hadn't another care in the world. Not far behind, came Susan-feeling that a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders-and Peter; they were sort of racing each other though at the end neither of them declared themselves winner so it couldn't really be called a race as much as it could be called a happy romp. Frank and Phillip followed at a slower pace just behind them until they reached the end of the spool.

The spool stopped at a beautiful place unlike any the four royal children had ever gazed upon before. There was a glittering silver-blue stream running under a lovely copper-coloured bridge which though apparently very old, looked extremely well-maintained and not at all dangerous. Across the bridge was a lovely little soft-cornered tower which was like a small palace-house on the inside with rooms and beds and plaything and books enough to keep all four of children amused and contented as well as some fishing poles in case they should want to go after the lovely rainbow trout that swam in the stream under the bridge.

In the lovely amethyst-coloured twilight hour that they had arrived during, dozens and dozens of beautiful little fireflies and musical crickets flew and hopped about. Lucy even saw a little frog (Susan saw him, too, but she wasn't none too keen on frogs after what had happened in her bath that one time and didn't pay the creature any mind) hop right across the bridge to the other side of the stream.

While Edmund and Lucy amused themselves by running around and exploring every little inch around their new 'secret holiday' home and calling out excitedly to one another every time they found something new-which happened pretty much every five seconds-and Phillip grazed on the soft downy turf a little ways off, King Frank took his two eldest children by the hands and led them to the bridge where the they sat down, one on either side of him, clinging tightly to their father-both somehow knowing without being told that he would be leaving them soon.

"I'll come and visit as often as I can and I'll try to bring little treats and other goodies when I come." He promised them, taking his hands away from theirs for a little while so he could roll up the thread again. "No one can find you here without the thread; just as I told you before, this is a secret place for the four of you."

"Why did you marry her?" Susan blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. "Then this-"

"Susan, sweetheart," King Frank sighed brokenly, bright tears springing up into his eyes. "I didn't have a choice; refusing would have meant loosing my life and then where would my four darlings be?"

"Then you don't love her at all?" Susan had to know, ignoring the 'shut up' look Peter kept glancing over their father at her with.

"No of course not." King Frank assured her. "Not even a little."

"Alright then." Susan had to be satisfied with that.

"My sweet child." He whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead before turning to Peter. "Promise me you'll look after the others, son, please promise me that."

"I will, father, I promise." Peter swore, throwing himself into his father's heaving arms for a hug goodbye.

"Very well, then." King Frank pulled away and straightened himself up. "Tell the younger set goodbye for me, okay?"

He wanted to kiss Edmund and Lucy goodbye too and bid them a proper farewell, but he could not. He didn't want them to see him cry.


	5. Wintertime at the tower

_We live in a secret tower somewhere in The Lantern Waste, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_Peter and I have to give the younger set their lessons now._

_Every morning we teach them reading, arithmetic, science, and history._

_They do not always take well to our teaching;_

_they'd rather race up and down the tower's stairs on wet days and go fishing for rainbow trout in the stream on sunny ones._

_Lucy wants to learn and she craves Peter's approval (which she gets pretty automatically anyway) so we can tame her to an extent._

_Edmund is a little harder; he's more of a rebel than Lu is._

_I don't think any of his little bouts of aggression steam from what ever Jadis did to him-he doesn't have that look in his eyes anymore-but it is frustrating all the same._

_When we aren't teaching the younger set or else making sure they haven't accidentally gotten themselves lost or drowned;_ _we two eldest ones still have a lot of work to do._

_Although we have every luxury we could ever dream of;_

_-velvet blankets, satin sheets, lacy ribbons all the colours of the rainbow, playthings and other curious objects made of solid gold and of the purest silver, and so much more even than that-_

_there is one thing we don't have anymore._

_Servants._

_There is no one to clean our clothing after we've sweated in them._

_There is no one to shine our shoes._

_There is no one to mend the tears in Lucy's smocks after she's been climbing trees all day._

_There is food enough, but there is no one to cook it for us._

_And as the days pass and there doesn't seem any likelihood of father arriving with a personal maidservant for us,_

_Peter and I are left with no choice but to take care of the chores ourselves._

_At least, in spite of everything, we are safe, Peter reminds me cheerfully whenever I seem a little worn down._

_I want to believe him._

_I really, really do._

_But somehow I just can't shake the feeling that we are not quite so safe as we think we are._

_Or if we are, that it isn't going to last._

* * *

When an exhausted, broken-hearted, sallow-faced King Frank arrived back at Cair Paravel with four horses and no other riders in his party after being missing for over a day and a half, his servants stopped what they were doing to gape at the brave man with mystified awe. They understood that what ever it was he had been doing had been to rescue his four beautiful children from the witch.

His stable groom brushed the horses and looked at the weary king with an expression of completely amazement. What sort of wonderful father was this? One so brave that he would risk the wrath of an evil sorceress to protect those whom he loved. Yes, Aslan had chosen well, this was the very sort of man who should be ruling over the Narnians; if only he had not lost Helen and gained Jadis, the land might be at its golden peak of perfection.

No one spoke to him. No one flat out said, "Sire, I think what you did was very brave." Not even the smallest children of the chambermaids dared to open their mouths to commend him. They had all learned (Some through rather unpleasant first-hand experiences) to fear Queen Jadis and would not risk glorifying what would surely bring a glower to her wicked, white face.

As for the witch herself, the second she became aware of the king's arrival in the courtyard-and of what his sudden disappearance and return surely meant, she came up with a plan to destroy those royal brats once and for all. It didn't matter where her idiot of a husband had hidden them away; she would find them. King Frank would be powerless to save his little darlings this time-she would see to that.

The first thing was to create a cloak of icy invisibility so that she could follow her husband anywhere without his knowing of it. Her foot-steps were cold and silent and her breath was faint-he could not hear the witch following him up into his tower room. Yet, in his heart, the good man could feel the evil lingering about the chamber and wisely chose to keep the spool of thread safely tucked away between the breast-pocket on his doublet and the folds of his silken hunting-mantle where she could neither see it, nor attempt to pluck it out without his notice.

One day however, Jadis tried a different approach and sat in their bedroom chamber on a little stool near the fireplace; the fire was nothing but a few stray embers and a pathetic heap of gray ashes although it was quite cold and nearly wintertime now. It had been a good many days since he'd taken the children away on their 'secret holiday' and she knew he was surely missing them terribly, the witch preyed on that.

"Cabby," She said sharply when he entered the room, shooting him an angry icy stare. "Where have our children been for so long?"

"B-b-beg pardon?" King Frank stammered nervously. He had been hoping that once they were out of her sight, Jadis would forget about them and he could go out in secret to visit their tower every now and again when she was otherwise occupied, but there seemed to be no hope of that now. Worse yet, she had said _our_ children, not _your_ children and for some reason that made Frank feel like he was being ripped apart by a wild animal; one who showed no mercy, one who knew no kindness-who _enjoyed_ swallowing him alive inch by inch. Looking into his wife's chilly eyes, noticing just the very tip of a pale pink tongue licking the end corners of that beautiful, proud, stern mouth, he knew his guess wasn't terribly far off.

"Our _children_." She said, her face seeming to change although she didn't so much as flinch.

Jadis was now using her old trick on King Frank-the same one that had persuaded his younger son into trusting her. Of course, its general effect was not as strong on the king as it had been on his son because Frank could remember his wife a good deal better than Edmund remembered his mother and also because, even now, he had not forgotten what Jadis truly was and where she had really come from.

All the same, seeing something even vaguely resembling his beloved Nellie in the face of an evil witch was more than his tormented heart could bear. Tears streamed down his face like rain, his hands clenched themselves, his body shook violently, leaving him with little control over his own muscles. Helen was back...his dear sweet Helen...no, it wasn't her after all, it was a mean trick...only Jadis...only that horror...her own bitter eyes peering out from a crude parody of a mask of his former wife's face...no, he wouldn't let her do this to him, he wouldn't...he couldn't.

"Stop it!" Screamed King Frank, pounding his hand on a little tea-table a few inches away, causing it to shake and quiver as if they were in the middle of a giant earth-quake. "You can't do this to me, Jadis! I _know_ who you are! You can't fool me!"

By now the poor man's head was spinning so quickly he could hardly think and his heart was pounding so rabidly that the next thing he knew, he couldn't feel his left side. Then things seemed dark, very dark. The room spun again and the witch's face was lost to his field of vision. Then he felt his heart stop beating for a moment and his hand went to his chest as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

When he woke up in one of the chamber's set aside for the royal family members when they had a physician's visit or were recovering from a long-term illness, he caught his breath at last, and returned to himself. He was alright, his body hurt a little bit now; his throat ached from screaming and his chest felt sort of weak, but at least he was still alive. At least he still had the secret of the spool of thread-oh, what if...his hand flew to the breast pocket, he felt the spool safely tucked right where it belonged and breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, as soon as he was well enough and Jadis wasn't watching him, he would to go visit his children and see how they were getting alone during their 'secret holiday'.

Just outside the chamber, near the doorway, he heard one of the servants whisper. "The poor King, having such an intense heart-attack at his age."

"That's what comes of-" Another servant started and King Frank-who unknown to them was listening carefully to their conversation-was certain that the servant meant to say, 'What comes of marrying a witch' or something along those lines before catching themselves and lamely finishing with, "not always eating right."

It took longer than King Frank had thought for him to fully recover; to be well enough that he might creep down unseen at an early-morning hour into the stables and saddle up his horse. It was mid-winter by the time he could finally manage it and he had to buddle up in thick fur-lined mantles and woolen scarves and the thickest of his riding gloves just to rid himself of the chilly feeling in his bones-though he could do little about the rather nasty-looking discharge streaming from his nose. Still, he decided that he could not wait any longer to visit the children; they needed him, they needed to know he had done what he did for their sake, that they weren't forgotten, that he loved them dearly, that he thought about them all the time, that it wasn't his fault that they'd been left alone for so very long.

Carefully, he stuffed the wrapped up presents he was smuggling down to his poor little darlings into his saddle-bags and climbed up onto the horse's back. He looked both ways, inhaling deeply. No servants, no Jadis, no spies. The cost seemed clear. He exhaled and saw his breath like thick fog in the musty stable air. The horse felt the king's boot kick lightly into its side and knew it was time to start galloping off.

Unknown to the King who thought himself quite alone on this journey, a full sledge, carrying Queen Jadis herself was following a little ways behind him. The winter was her own pet, she could use it to make herself undetectable to his eyes, and on the off-chance that he realized something was amiss, it seemed to be nothing more than a farmer traveling in the opposite direction or the witch's reindeer seemed to be naught but a harmless doe rushing away perhaps from a hunter a little ways off who had risen early to catch his animal. It was nothing to be alarmed about, the king told himself, eagerly riding on.

When the king finally reached the thicket, he thought he felt an uncanny presence at his side but upon looking both to the left and to the right, he saw nothing at all.

"You're just scaring yourself, Frank." He whispered to himself as he stood in front of the lamppost-gleaming bright yellow on the snow-covered ground below, reaching for the spool and dropping it, watching it unroll and following it as quickly as his sore, tired legs would allow.

Peering out at him from the corner of the thicket, Jadis smiled to herself. Yes, it had taken a lot of effort to follow him all this way and to keep herself hidden, but it had all be worth it. For now she knew the way to the children. When her plan was ready, all she had to do was get the thread for herself and let it guide her to their hiding place.

When King Frank reached the bridge, he saw four buddled-up figures playing happily together and his heart leapt with joy. Snowballs flew and little Lucy yelped and hollered as Peter and Edmund raced after her. From behind, Susan nailed Edmund in the back of the head with an unseen snowball of her own and he turned around, leaving Peter and Lucy to chase after his older sister instead. His snowball was aimed towards her-and the bridge-but she ducked and it flew onto the corner of the other side, landing on King Frank's boot.

Susan blinked thickly falling snowflakes off of her eyelashes and squinted over at the man coming towards them; he was standing right in the very middle of the bridge now, getting closer and closer by the second. It took a moment, but finally, she recognized him.

"Father!" She cried out happily, rushing towards him, Edmund not far behind her.

Lucy dropped the snowball she was about to fling at Peter and they both took off for the bridge, too.

There was a great deal of hugging and cries of joy until at last the five of them broke away from each other and the four children, now more used to their new surroundings, took charge and led their father into the tower-palace.

Susan took the mantel and caps and scarves from their father as well as picking up the ones Edmund and Lucy quickly shed and dropped haphazardly onto the floor now that they were unwanted layers in the warm, cozy place and hung them all up on the brass hooks designed to look like an open Lion's mouth by the front door.

Peter led their father into the little dinning-pantry chamber where they'd been having all of their meals during their holiday and had Edmund pull out a fifth chair for him at the head of the table. Next, he turned on the tea-kettle and started boiling some water.

"I've missed you so much." Lucy told him, clinging to King Frank's arm and embracing it tightly as if she was never going to let go, leaning her head sideways on his shoulder.

"Where have you been?" Edmund asked, not unkindly, taking a seat on his father's left side. "We-I mean, I was starting to worry."

"Don't pester him, Ed." Susan scolded, reaching up into the cabinets to get some of the cream-coloured, gold-rimmed porcelain mugs so that they could all have something hot to drink when the tea-kettle finally let out its whistle.

She couldn't be too stern with Edmund, however, because quite frankly, she'd been suffering from the same worries; there had even been times-though she was deeply ashamed of them-where she'd nearly allowed herself to believe that their father was _never_ coming back at all. Times when she had honestly thought that maybe Frank was going to break his promise and completely forget about his children left alone in their secret tower cut off from the rest of Narnia for their own protection.

Looking into their sweet, innocent, happy faces, Frank could not bring himself to tell them had he had been recovering from a heart-attack. Not only would it be sure to deeply upset the younger set, it would also cause the older ones to worry more about his health and surely they would start to wonder each time when he left them if he would be alive to keep his word and return. So rather than answer Edmund's question, Frank pulled out the things he'd brought for them hoping to distract their curiosity at least for the time being.

There were brand-new winter coats for all of them as well as soft muffs for Susan and Lucy and new woolen gloves for Peter and Edmund. But those were more things he'd thought he would bring simply in case something had happened to their old ones while he was away, the rest of the gifts were things he'd gotten simply in hopes of spoiling them a little. Some tins of the richest dark chocolate cocoa imported from Ettinsmoor, a golden jingle-bell on a silver chain as a plaything/ornament for Lucy, some new books for Peter, a new silver hand-mirror covered with diamonds and rubies for Susan, a jewel-encrusted pocket knife for Edmund since he was older now and could finally be trusted with sharp objects, and a little something he had thought they might all be able to enjoy, a shinny new music box.

"Are these all for us?" Susan asked in disbelief, planting a kiss on her father's cheek. "It's lovely."

"Thank you, father." Peter said, examining the new winter-coats which were even finer than their old ones had been.

"Cocoa!" Squealed Lucy happily, throwing her arms around King Frank's neck. "Thank you!"

The family spent the rest of the evening in happiness together, eating and drinking and playing card games and listening to the music box. It felt just like a party and for the first time in a long while, there seemed to be nothing to taint the occasion so they laughed all the more fully.

When it got late, Peter took Lucy upstairs and tucked her into bed.

"Isn't it wonderful that father's come back?" She asked, her face absolutely beaming with joy.

"Yes," Peter smiled back at her. "It is. Goodnight, sweetie."

"Is he going to stay here with us now?" Lucy yawned, peering up at her eldest brother hopefully.

He shook his head. "Let's just enjoy the time we have with him now, all right?"

"All right, Peter, goodnight." Lucy yawned again, rolling over onto her side and falling asleep.

After the last star had set in the heavens and dawn was fast-approaching, King Frank smiled at his two eldest children-the only ones who'd managed to stay up all night (Edmund was asleep in one of the chairs by the fire)-and told them he really had to start heading back to Cair Paravel.

Susan held back her tears as she hugged him goodbye and Peter-even though he was the closest to being a grown-up out of the four of them-actually found that he had to bite onto his lower lip just to keep from crying out, "Father, don't leave us!" and blubbing like a six year old.

Once more, he told them to say goodbye to the younger set for him. He didn't want to wake them, he lied. In truth, it was the same reason as last time, he didn't want them to see the tears rolling down his cheeks as he stood on the bridge, looking over his shoulder at his children's tower.

Meanwhile, back at Cair Paravel, Jadis had started work on making some embroidered white shirts; the spinning wheel rolling round and round helplessly at her wicked command. One of the beautiful smooth creamy-white garments had already been finished, there were only three more to go.

"The cabby isn't the only one who'll be bringing gifts to them this winter." She smiled to herself; it was time their stepmother brought them something, too.


	6. Betrayed swans

_We are getting a little sick of winter, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_At first, we enjoyed it._

_We liked playing in the snow and wearing our winter clothes._

_I personally liked sitting up late at night with a cup of piping hot tea and not feeling sweat-beads rolling down my forehead the way they did on the warmer nights._

_Of course, it was already autumn when father brought us here so we don't know exactly what spring and summer will be like in this place._

_Still, I think we're ready to discover that._

_Snow was pretty the first five dozen times we've seen it this year, now it's just sort of bleak._

_In the meantime, we four have different ways of passing the slow-moving, dark-sky filled hours._

_Edmund even stops fussing so much about his lessons in the morning because the winter is taking its toll, even on him._

_Lucy reluctantly lets me teach her how to sew and cross-stitch and do needle-point; but I can tell, winter or not, this isn't something she is going to get much pleasure out of._

_Early one morning, I find Peter sitting in one of the upstairs chambers looking out through one of the few windows our tower-palace has._

_He looks sad and sort of frightened._

_This isn't like him, so the second I notice a tear roll down the side of his left cheek, I ask what the matter is._

_He shakes his head at me sadly, trying to hide his grief, and for a moment I just assume this is all because he's missing father and doesn't want to seem weak and childish in front of Lucy or Edmund._

_Then he whispers something about fate, closes his eyes, sighs wearily, and then opens them again._

_"I wonder what's going to happen to us." He says finally._

_"What?" I crinkle my forehead and reach up to feel his wondering if perhaps he's running a fever and is not thinking straight._

_Gently, he nudges my hand away. "Oh, Su, it's silly, don't worry."_

_"No, tell me." I insist, I promise him I wont find it silly-no matter what. "Please tell me."_

_"I can't explain it." He says, groaning deeply and glancing out the window again. "I've just got this horrible feeling that something is going to happen and we won't even be here for spring."_

_I surprise myself by how quickly I almost say, "That's silly, of course we'll be here." in spite of my promise and have to bite the tip of my tongue to keep those words from escaping._

* * *

One cold winter morning, when the snow was falling colder and thicker than any that yet to come to the land surrounding the children's secret tower-palace in the Lantern Waste, King Frank sat alone in the throne room in Cair Paravel feeling very uncomfortable.

At some late hour the night before, the poor king had awaked with an awful start, breathing heavily and his heart pounding like a drum he could hear echoing over and over again in his aching, throbbing ears. He had suddenly felt the horrible sensation of what he thought was someone with fingers as smooth and cold as ice lifting up his mantle and reaching into the breast-pocket on his doublet and then carrying off the magical spool of thread as swiftly as a river's current pulls away a small toy or handkerchief that has fallen into it by mistake.

Jadis! The witch has taken the spool, He thought to himself, my children, my poor, poor children, they're in such danger...somebody help them...please...somebody-

His hand felt for the thread, he could still feel the spool in his breast-pocket after all. King Frank breathed a sigh of relief. So it was all only a dream, the thread was still safe and so were his four darlings in their tower. He decided that it must have just been his own fear of being found-out by Jadis that had triggered the nightmare and that he really must try to get a proper night's sleep now and calm his body down before he had another heart-attack.

Sadly, what the king didn't know was that it had not been a mere dream at all, but a true event, the witch had carefully and speedily stolen the spool from his breast-pocket and taken it for herself. So that he wouldn't realize his loss right away and attempt to stop her before she could complete the evil deed she had in store for the children, she had taken another spool of thread the same shape and size that was also a golden-colour vaguely similar to the real magic thread. Of course, upon close examination, any fool could see they were not the same but in the darkness of night, or in deep mental distress, when one wasn't focusing as closely on the minor details as they ought to be, it was a close enough match.

Now, with the thread and the four embroidered white shirts all finished and wrapped up in a smooth bolt of azure silk, Jadis smiled to herself and had her reindeers prepared and hitched up to her sledge. Shortly before sun-rise traveling across the ice and snow at an absurdly fast speed, she went to the lantern waste. Her reindeer could not enter the thicket so she stepped out leaving the sledge behind; the shirts and the thread she carried in her arms until she reached the lamppost.

"Show me the way to the children." She whispered darkly, dropping the spool into the ground and waiting for it to roll its way to the children.

It took a moment, as though somehow the thread itself sensed there was something amiss about the situation but just as Jadis was about to give it a swift kick, the spool started rolling and showed the way.

The witch followed the thread up to the bridge; across from which she could see a familiar young dark-haired boy, his pale cheeks rosy from the cold, carving a small snow-castle out of a large lump of snow only a couple of feet away from the frozen stream.

Although Edmund had been rather tired of playing in the snow, he'd begun to find inside just as dull and had longed for something different. Peter, who seemed sort of depressed for some reason or other, was upstairs laid-out in his bed in a sort of fake-nap (His eyes were closed but you could tell he wasn't actually sleeping; just kind of resting in himself). Susan was still trying to teach Lucy needle-point and of course Edmund had had no interest in learning anything like that, so he had quietly slipped out the door to amuse himself-deciding that they wouldn't miss him for a few measly hours.

Outside, it had felt extremely cold, even for winter, but he had on his new winter coat and his thick gloves which made it almost bearable. He tried to ignore the fact that his very visible breath seemed to freeze in mid-air for unnaturally long amounts of time and amused himself by focusing on the snow lump next to the stream. In his mind, he pictured a castle sort of like Cair Paravel but frozen solid; with a throne room made out of giant pillars of ice and little diamond-shaped windows that weren't really diamonds at all but were only hard ice cut in rhombus shapes. Of course, he wasn't silly enough to think he could make an exact little copy out of his pathetic lump, but he thought perhaps he might make something worth looking at until spring came around and it melted away into nothing.

Then a chill breeze blew passed him, nearly scrapping the skin off of his now red nose and making his eyes water and smart terribly; looking up at the bridge he saw someone standing there. At once, he could tell it wasn't their father so he stood up, brushed the snow off his knees and prepared to run back for the tower at the first signs of danger.

But the person on the bridge came closer and he saw that it was a lady dressed in white furs carrying something wrapped tightly in a buddle in her arms. Curiously, he blinked through the snowflakes which had suddenly seemed to stop falling altogether.

"Edmund," She smiled slowly at him, her bright eyes flashing; she was pleased to see he was alone. He was child's play, really, always the easiest to use for her own gain. "I've missed you."

Edmund didn't answer; feeling quite sick to his stomach all of a sudden. He wanted to turn around and run and run without stopping but for the first time since the day their father had brought them to this place, he could feel the tugging on the back of his shirt again. He was terribly afraid of Jadis for that short moment, certain that she was doing something horrible to him that he could not stop, but then he thought for a moment he saw his mother's face in her's again and remembered that this was no one to be feared, only their dear stepmother, only harmless 'Mother Jadis' whom he had been so fond of. And she'd missed him! How very guilty he felt that he hadn't thought of her even once in all this time.

She has always been so jolly nice to me, Edmund thought-shaking his head shamefully, and I didn't even bother to ask father how she was doing, and now she's come to visit and I've very nearly turned and tried to run away from her, what horrid beast of a stepson I am being! I must make her feel welcome here, father wouldn't like it if I didn't, I'm sure.

"Hullo." He said in the nicest tone he could manage. "How did you find us?"

"Oh, your father told me, of course!" Jadis laughed, making her voice sound as merry and pleasant as possible. "You didn't think I was unaware of your whereabouts all this time, did you?"

"Well father said it was a secret holiday." Edmund explained, realizing that he was still shouting across the bridge because she hadn't come over to him yet.

She laughed again. "Dear child, bless you! You thought...honestly, what mother can stand not knowing where her children are?" With that, she came across the bridge and put a strong white hand on his shoulder.

"Have you come to see our palace?" Edmund asked, trying to make conversation.

"I've come with presents, my dear." She unfolded the buddle and took out one of the white shirts. "I've made you all little shirts. Aren't they sweet?" She beamed at him, replacing one of her hands on his shoulder again. "I've sewn each one by hand."

"Um...thank you." Edmund managed to blurt out politely.

For the most part, it was a pretty ordinary-looking shirt but it seemed about the right size for him and there were strange little patterns that Edmund could not understand or figure out embroidered around the collar and the hem at the bottom. They were strange little designs that seemed to be neither words nor pictures but somewhere in-between; he had never seen such symbols before and secretly wondered what they meant, in spite of himself.

She looked down at him for a little while longer before a big grin spread across her face. "I've just had the most wonderful idea, my Edmund."

"What is it?" He asked, watching her fold up the shirt and tuck it back into the buddle with the others.

"A wonderful surprise for my other three sweethearts." She took her hand off his shoulder so that she could clap both her hands together excitedly. "Supposing you don't tell them that I've come and you take the shirts into your little home there and say, 'look at these, aren't they nice? Let's try them on' or something like that. A clever boy like you could easily come up with something decent to say about it. It would be our little secret surprise for them; then, I could come out of maybe a corner or something and see how lovely you all look in your new shirts."

Part of Edmund was more than willing to do as she suggested but there was another part of him that seemed to be trying to warn him that this was a sort of betrayal. If he did this, he was betraying his whole family. In the end, though, looking at his 'Mother Jadis' as she held out the buddle to him eagerly, urging him to take it, he gave in.

Meanwhile, King Frank, discovering that the witch wasn't anywhere to be found in the castle, had decided to take off secretly when his servants' backs were turned and to go to his children. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that they needed him today; that if he didn't get there and soon, something horrible would befall them. So barely bothering to make sure his horse was even tacked up properly, he raced towards the lantern waste, arriving some hours after Jadis had given Edmund the shirts and followed him into the tower-palace.

Quickly he pulled out the spool and dropped it onto the ground. Nothing happened. It didn't move. How could he find his children when the spool would not roll, when the thread would not show him the way? Picking it up, he discovered with sudden horror, that this was not the magic thread. This was a simple, pointless, unmagical decoy. Jadis must have gotten the real thread somehow and had used to this to trick him into thinking otherwise.

"No!" He screamed out, tears rolling down his cheeks like rain as he squinted through them seeing nothing but snow ahead, no path way to his children's tower to be found. "No! Nooooooo!"

When Edmund led Jadis into the tower-palace and hid her behind one of the longer velvet tapestries in the hallway (she was too tall to hide anywhere else), he found that Susan was not sitting where he had last seen her. He could find only Lucy, who was sitting at a table with an oil lamp and a few coloured pencils drawing little pictures of lions and flowers and other things of the sort that she was fond of.

"Lucy," he asked as causally as possible. "where's Susan and Peter?"

"Peter is still upstairs but Su's gone out to look for you, we didn't know where you'd gone and we were worried." She explained, without looking up.

When Lucy finally did look up and saw his face, she let out a gasp and shuddered slightly. "Oh!"

"What is it?" Edmund demanded almost crossly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Are you alright?" Lucy asked in a low voice-almost a whisper-as she stood up, not bothering to smooth out her slightly ruffled skirt, and walked over to her brother. "You look awful."

"Well what do you expect? It's freezing outside." Edmund came up with.

"But there's something terrible in your face, Ed." Lucy now looked like she wanted to cry-to burst into hysterical wails all over nothing-and he felt the oddest desire to smack her for it. He really might have done so if Peter hadn't come down the stairs and walked into the room at that very moment. Edmund wasn't stupid enough to try to smack Lucy in front of Peter, that was just _asking_ for trouble.

"There you are," Peter said, nodding acknowledgingly at Edmund. "I thought you would come back on your own; Susan disagreed, so she went out to look for you."

Edmund wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden, he wasn't very fond of his brother either; it was as if an invisible barrier separated him from caring about those whom he had loved so dearly this morning. Now, he almost hated them for no reason at all. No, there was a reason! It was the way they kept on looking at him now, as if there was something the matter with him. There wasn't, there wasn't! He was fine! He wasn't doing anything wrong, only helping their kind stepmother with a surprise for them. So why did he feel so bad? Why did he have that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach-a feeling he usually associated with having eaten too much Turkish Delight at one of their many royal banquets they'd had growing up at Cair Paravel?

'Mother Jadis' was still behind the tapestry, waiting for him to show the others their presents and as it could be any amount of time until Susan came back from where ever she'd gone to look for him, he decided he wouldn't wait for her. After all, Jadis couldn't hide for too much longer, could she? Even if she could, who would like that? So Edmund unwrapped the buddle and showed two of the shirts to the eldest and to the youngest.

"Look," Edmund said, holding one of them up to show them. "Aren't they nice?"

Lucy thought the shirts themselves were rather pretty, for the fabric was very fine, but she noticed the crude embroidery and found herself for some reason or other, reminded of the wicked stepmother they had been taken here for safety from, and shook her head. They weren't pretty shirts at all, they were awful.

As for Peter, he sensed something amiss but the name, 'Jadis' never actually came to his mind. "Edmund, where did you get these?"

"No matter." Edmund brushed their worries off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just try them on, I'll tell you later."

"I suppose it couldn't do any harm..." Peter mused unsurely, picking up the smooth fabric and rolling it up so that he could stick his head through the collar.

Though Lucy didn't like the shirts, as soon as she saw her trusted elder brother putting his on, she reached for her own and started to put it on, too.

Jadis, still hiding, however, was furious. You little idiot, she thought-peering over at Edmund as he put on his shirt as well, you were supposed to wait until you had _all_ your siblings with you! Goodness, do I have to do _everything_ myself?

Peter's shirt was still bunched up at the top because he had not pulled it down all the way, reaching upwards to do so, he caught sight of Edmund's face which was far whiter even than it had been a few moments ago and noticed a single white feather sprouting at the young boy's neck. Instantly, he leapt over to Lucy to pull the shirt off of her in hopes of rescuing her from their now apparent betrayal. If he hadn't done so, if he had simply taken off his own, he might have saved himself. But he didn't and, lunging over at his little sister, the rest of his shirt fell all the way over him and he started to change, too.

Within a few moments, where there had stood three royal children in embroidered white shirts, there now stood three beautiful swans. The smallest swan, Lucy, had a little garland of white-gold on her head. The largest, Peter, wore a fine golden crown. And the middle-sized one, Edmund, wore a cap of plain silver on his head. This was because, swans or not, Lucy was still a princess, Peter was still a crowned prince, and Edmund-traitor now though he was-still remained of royal blood himself.

What have I done? Thought Edmund despairingly, looking across at the two birds that had once been his siblings, his love for them rushing back as he realized what horror he had brought upon them. His heart was breaking and just when he thought he could take no more, Jadis stepped out and cast an evil glower at them.

"Fly," She said cruelly, flicking her fingers at them. "Fly out into the world as worthless birds."

The poor swans flew into the hallway at the very moment that the front door opened and Susan stood there, her mouth frozen with horror at what she saw.

Three swans few out, two flying off one way, the other (Edmund) flying off in a completely different direction as he could not bear to be near the other two a moment longer, and Jadis standing there right in front of her.

Run, just run, was all Susan could think as she dashed helplessly away from the witch into the forest, over the bridge, not stopping to think or rest. Her siblings even could not cross her mind; she thought only of making her two legs flee as fast as possible from the tower-it was no longer safe nor secret.

A few inches away from the lamppost, King Frank was sprawled out on the snowy ground with his tears frozen to his face which was now blue with cold and he was sobbing helplessly, "No...no...dear Aslan, no..." He could say nothing else, he could think nothing else, he was completely broken.

Then, a voice called out to him, "Father!"

His eyes blinked and he turned just slightly until he caught sight of his oldest daughter, terrified and breathless, collapsing in the snow right beside him, too exhausted to keep on running. She had run all the way from the tower to the lamppost without even knowing where she was going.

After that, it was all black until Susan heard what she thought sounded like hooves click-clacking on the snow and a polite, startled little voice above exclaiming, "Good gracious!"


	7. Winter's End

_We are cruelly separated from one another, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_I am laid out in the snow._

_Father is only a little ways off._

_At first I can hear his sobs and whimpers but then..._

_He is silent._

_I don't blame him,_

_I cannot bring myself to make any sounds either._

_Lost in the blackness, my aching body and frozen skin becomes numb._

_Then there is a voice exclaiming above us._

_I don't care who it is as long as it isn't her;_

_as long as it isn't Jadis, cruel enchantress of my siblings, destroyer of my family, false consort of my father._

_Anyone else, be they good or bad, are welcome to me now._

_What does it matter if I am about to die at the hands of a ruffian?_

_Or a robber?_

_Or a wild beast?_

_(Though this creature does not sound dangerous; more polite and fussy than anything else)_

_I would forfeit my life to anyone at this moment._

_Anyone that is, except Jadis._

_I don't want her to get me, too._

_She doesn't deserve to win anymore than she already has._

_I want to live, not for myself, not even for my lost siblings, but simply to spite her._

_My eyes open a crack._

_And my sight meets with a pair of goat hooves that I somehow know do not actually belong to an ordinary goat._

_A faun, I realize, that's what the creature in front of me is._

_Many fauns-most of them, I think-are loyal to my father; he has always been a kind ruler over them, they love him._

_I'm not afraid of this one, then._

_I let the startled fussy little goat-man lift me up and carry me off._

_Then, once in his arms, I black out again._

_I really must do something about this dreadful habit of constant fainting-it's getting rather aggravating not knowing what's going on while it's happening._

_When I awaken, I am in a comfortable little cave with reddish-walls; one of which is lined with books._

_I am in a little wooden cot filled with soft woolen blankets placed by a warm, roaring fire in what I assume is the living room._

_I climb out of the cot-my head throbs and aches a little but I force myself to ignore it._

_I stumble over what must be the kitchen because I can see the faun preparing for a light tea in it now._

_I want to speak to him but it takes me a while to find my voice._

_By the time I manage to clear my throat, he has already loaded up a little tray with some food and drink and is turning to face me._

_"By the mane!" The faun exclaims, looking greatly relieved. "You're awake."_

* * *

The faun who had found Susan passed-out in the snow by the lamppost, was called, Tumnus. He lived in a part of the Lantern Waste only a little ways off from where he'd discovered the exhausted princess. As quickly as possible, making sure to load up a plate with the finest things on the tray and hand it over to Susan while he spoke, Tumnus explained that he had taken her into his home in hopes of saving her from what ever it was she had been fleeing or at the very least, reviving her to some level of health.

"I couldn't just leave you there." He explained sort of quietly. "Even if I hadn't known you were one of the princesses."

"How _did_ you know who I was?" Susan asked him, fighting back a shiver and scooting her chair a little closer to the fire.

Tumnus shrugged his shoulders and seemed to be blinking back a round of tears. "Your hands are exactly like your late mother's, she was an old friend of mine, I remember some of her features." he blushed and chuckled uncomfortably. "Silly, I know." He paused for a moment, letting that sink in before adding, "and of course when I saw the king beside you, I was pretty sure anyway."

 _Father_! Susan's heart gave a sudden thump of fear. Where was he? Didn't Tumnus take him in, too? Was he in another room somewhere? With a sickening thud striking her like a cold smack across the face, she thought she knew even if she couldn't bring herself to admit it; to admit that he might be-probably was-must be-but no, he couldn't be...could he have...died?

"Your lord, King Frank, he-" Susan stammered, her eyes filling up with tears as she took in the weary expression on the face of the faun sitting across from her.

"He didn't make it, your highness." Tumnus told her gravely, his shoulders heaving just a little as if he was holding back a good cry in an attempt to avoid overwhelming her. "He's...gone..."

Now that she knew for certain, and the horrid image of her father laid across the snow-covered ground, his face a sickly, dark blue colour came to her mind, despair washed over Susan and she thrust her face into her hands and wept. She cried for Peter, Edmund, and Lucy because they were all swans now, she cried for her father because he had died and all he'd ever wanted was to protect them, she cried for Tumnus and for all the subjects like him who had lost their king, and she cried for herself because she was left behind.

She didn't speak to Tumnus again until the next morning when he made her some more hot tea and some eggs and heated up a few cold sausages, urging her to eat.

"You must keep up your strength." Tumnus reminded her with an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "Starving yourself wont make things any better."

Susan would have protested but, being such a practical person by nature, she knew that Tumnus was right and forced herself to swallow a few mouthfuls. While they ate, she told him her whole story of all the harm Jadis had done to the royal family.

Sadly, Tumnus clicked his tongue. "That's bad, your majesty, very dangerous."

"Not anymore." Susan whispered, taking another sip of the tea but not really tasting or feeling it as it rested on her tongue and rolled down her throat. "She's succeeded, turning them into swans."

"You're not a swan." Tumnus pointed out, the slight traces of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"But Peter is." Susan reminded him, shaking her head as though shuddering could rid herself of frightening thoughts. "And he's the crowned prince. With him and father out of her way..." She couldn't finish her sentence; a sob rose up into her throat again and her eyes filled with tears.

"Ah, but the witch is not a daughter of Eve, Narnia will reject her now that your father-may the Lion rest his soul-has passed on, she's powerful, but she will not win all of Narnia." Tumnus spoke in a low, comforting, almost-parental tone. "Thus as long as you are alive, there will always be hope in Narnia." Noticing that Susan's facial expression was less than thrilled he added, "Better still, your siblings-if what you described is in fact accurate-are only suffering under an enchantment, not dead. Enchantments can be broken, you know."

All winter long, Susan drove herself to near madness trying to think of a way to help her siblings. The first thing she had to do was find them, but she didn't even know where to look. The weather was freezing and Cair Paravel was at war with Jadis, trying to over-throw her, so she couldn't go back there. And of course, there was the horrid thought that perhaps which ever one of her siblings it was that had flown off alone without the other two, might have gotten shot down by hunters-or worse-plagued her mind night and day.

Then, the very night before the first day of spring, Susan had a strange dream. In her dream, a beautiful white swan with a cap of silver upon his head stood on hill-top somewhere just a few miles away from the Lantern Waste, with Aslan himself. The Lion was whispering something to the swan-so low that Susan could not hear what it was he said- but somehow she knew it was not her ears that were meant to hear it anyway-and the swan was nodding, listening carefully. You could tell form the expression on the bird's face that this was a conversation he would never forget no matter how long he lived. After they finished talking, the Lion led the swan down towards a beaver's dam and planed a gentle lion-kiss upon the side-tip of his beak in a reassuring fashion before two other swans, a large one and a little one, landed a few feet away from them. They looked to the Lion awkwardly as if they were not sure what they were supposed to do.

"Here is your brother." Aslan told them, motioning over at the other swan. "And there is no need to speak to Edmund about what has passed. What's done..." He paused for a moment, fixing his dark golden eyes very intently on the swan that had been Peter, not unkindly, but a little sternly. It wasn't exactly a warning stare; all the same, it wasn't a gesture to be taken lightly either. "...is done." With that, he padded away from them, leaving the three of them alone together.

At that moment, the sun that had been hovering low over the horizon started to dip below the earth and set. The swans blinked and wore a strange, slightly uncomfortable, expression on their faces for a moment before, magically, wonderfully, they were not swans anymore, but three beautiful royal children still wearing the horrid embroidered white shirts as if the change had never taken place at all. Without being told, Susan could tell they were not free, that they were still under the witch's curse, but at least she could see their real faces now-even if it was only a dream.

Lucy happily threw herself into Edmund's arms, forgiving him instantly and unconditionally. "I missed you, you didn't have to go away like that." She murmured, clinging tightly to her brother.

Peter's expression was a little tighter, more uncertain. He looked like he very much _wanted_ to forgive his brother for betraying them but there was a clear struggle written all over his face that made Edmund cringe and shrink back just a little bit. This was probably the right thing for him to do because as soon as Peter saw the that look on his younger brother's face, his own face softened and even before he said anything at all, you knew just by his look, that he'd forgiven Edmund already.

Edmund, however, seemed unable to look him in the eye and so he missed it and thought himself to still be a traitor. Perhaps Peter would never speak of what had happened, but surely he wouldn't forget about it, it would always be there somehow, in the very back of his mind.

"It's late," Peter said suddenly, his voice a little cold even though he wasn't actually angry anymore. "and you look tired."

"I _am_ tired." Edmund mumbled to his feet, biting his lip and willing himself not to cry.

"Get some sleep." Peter told him.

"Alright." He nodded deeply, his head still hanging very low, and headed for the beaver's dam where Peter and Lucy had evidently been staying over the winter.

"And Edmund?" Peter called after him.

At that moment he gathered his courage and forced himself to look up into his brother's face. "Yes?"

"Try not fly off when you turn back into a swan." Peter managed a small, forgiving smile. "Lucy's been missing you terribly all winter."

Edmund smiled back. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Peter's smile remained and widened just a little. "Goodnight, Ed."

To Susan, this was becoming so real and so very vivid that she felt certain, dream or not-that all this had really happened; how she was witnessing it in her sleep-a fair amount of miles and days away from the actual event, she didn't know, but she didn't care either. She was just too happy to see them all together again and to hope that she, too, might be reunited with them soon. She smiled at their images in her head as they faded away into a dreamless sleep, giving her the rest she'd been lacking all winter.

Little did she know that her little vision-dream was not to be the full extent of her joy; as it happened, Tumnus had gone out for a walk shortly before sun-set and was standing near the lamppost when he saw a marvelous sight. Three gorgeous swans came flying towards him, swooping down below to land on the ground on the opposite side of the lamppost.

And what happened as they landed and the last rays of the sunlight began to vanish below the horizon, turning late afternoon into evening and night? Why, they weren't swans anymore but the three royal siblings of the Princess Susan who had been moping about his cave winter day in and winter day out aching to see them!

"Your majesties!" Tumnus exclaimed happily, rushing towards them with his hands held out.

Cheerfully, Lucy took his hands and shook them heartily, giving him a friendly smile by way of greeting. "Hullo."

"Good day," Peter said politely.

"Er...um, hi there." Edmund blurted out.

"Oh, where are my manners!" Tumnus gasped, shaking his head very hard as if trying to shake a bit of sense into himself. "My name is Tumnus."

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Tumnus." said Lucy, letting go of his hands. "I'm Lucy." She didn't mention being a princess because their royal heritage seemed to be common knowledge to the faun anyhow. "These are my brothers, Edmund and Peter."

"Please, sir, I mean, Mr. Tumnus," Edmund amended a little nervously, taking a step forward. "Have you by any chance seen a lady perhaps a year or so younger than my brother, with long black hair wandering about these parts?"

It took all the excited faun had in him not to jump up and down and embrace both boys tightly, making a great scene, and announce at the top of his voice that he knew who it was they were looking for and that if they wanted, he'd take them to her at once.

He lowered his voice a little and whispered to them that he had found their sister and taken her in and that she was quite safe and well. They were of course very eager to see her after all this time and so they followed Tumnus all the way to his home and entered into the cave. They found Susan asleep in her cot, a smile on her lips (This was because she had just been dreaming about them and now all seemed right with the world), and a restful look about her face.

"Should we wake her?" Edmund whispered to Lucy and Peter.

Peter shook his head. "Let her sleep, we can talk to her when she wakes up."

"Look!" Lucy whisper-shouted, motioning over at the cot again. "I think she's waking up on her own now."

Susan turned a little and her eye-lids srunched tighter and then relaxed as though they were just about to open. She blinked twice in the candle-lit cave, at the three figures hovering over her, casting shadows on the walls and blocking little spurts of yellow light. At first, she thought she was simply seeing them in her mind again but then the corner of her wrist brushed against one of Edmund's fingers which had been dangling near the edge of the cot.

"Edmund!" She cried happily, sitting up now and reaching over to feel her other brother's arm and Lucy's side to see if they were really there, too. They were. "Oh, Peter! Lucy!"

This was followed by a good deal of hugging and crying and explaining. First, Susan learned that the dream she'd had, had indeed happened for real though they couldn't imagine how on earth she had come to know of it. Then Peter, Lucy, and Edmund were told about their father's death and now all four of them mourned for him together.

"You wont all fit in the cot." Tumnus decided, noticing that the four siblings seemed to have no intention of leaving each other alone after all this time. "You'll all take my bedroom for tonight, there's a reasonably large bed in there, it'll be a bit of a tight fit but I'm fairly certain it'll be big enough."

"But what about you?" Susan asked, feeling rather uncomfortable taking his bed when she'd been staying in his home and eating his food and crying all over his shoulder all this time. She had to draw the line somewhere, didn't she?

"I'll take the cot." Tumnus told her, in a kind voice that was also very no-nonsense in tone. "Now off to bed all of you."

So the four royal siblings said goodnight to the faun (Susan and Lucy both kissed him on the cheek as they used to do to their father at night before he'd passed away) and walked over to the cave's bedroom. They all laid down together on it, snuggling close to one another, feeling quite comfortable. They continued to talk to each other until they all fell asleep and their mouths stopped moving.

In the morning, the sun rose in the sky and a small trickle of sunlight poured in through a little window in the cave-bedroom, waking Susan. She blinked and rolled over to look at her siblings. She saw three swans, fast asleep, with their beaks tucked under their wings.

"Oh! That's right," said Susan to herself, sighing deeply as she sat up in the bed. "I'd almost forgotten."


	8. Then I shall not speak or laugh

_We are all together again, My brothers, my sister, and I._

_Much to my delight, I have discovered that in spite of their daily transformation into swans, they do not lose their speech._

_That their voices are one thing that Jadis did not-possibly could not-take away from them is strangely comforting._

_They have told me that they have been living in a dam with some kindly beavers who are loyal to the Narnian Crown and its true royal family;_

_but now that winter is over, Edmund is redeemed, and we are all together again, they are going to be traveling east._

_There is an army camp of soldiers and refugees a good ways off from Cair Paravel._

_It is called Aslan's camp and it is safe._

_I believe that is why Peter is so set on getting us there._

_He isn't so concerned about himself as he is about us three-that has always been his way._

_So this is it, I, a former princess of Narnia, duchess of the Lone Islands, must go and live in a soldier base until we can discover a way to break the enchantment and re-claim the throne that is rightfully my eldest brother's._

_We say goodbye to Tumnus, who begins to sob rather uncontrollably, so Lucy gives him her handkerchief._

_He tries to give it back when he's done using it but she tells him to keep it._

_Our traveling must take place at night because it is the only time when Peter, Edmund, and Lucy can take on their true human form._

_Thus, it is the only time Peter and Edmund can offer Lucy and I any sort of protection from robbers or wild animals or anything else that might spring out at us on our travels._

_So, we sleep up in trees all day and travel all night;_

_except for once, when we come to a melting river that is thawing in the warm spring._

_It is too dangerous for four humans to walk over,_

_so Peter and Edmund work all night at making a strange sort of net out of very thick and strong ropes and vines._

_In the morning, when they have become swans again, they tell me to climb into the net._

_It feels more than a little strange to be lifted into the air on a net by two swans that also happen to be your brothers while your sister-also a swan-flies over your head, giving you shade and being a sort of look-out._

_Half way across, part of the net rips and I let out a scream._

_Even on their bird faces, I can read the frightened expressions Peter and Edmund exchange as they flap their wings harder and I cling with cramped fingers onto the remaining part of the net for dear life._

* * *

Susan's scream echoed across the melting river. She just knew she was going to fall and land right on the thinnest parts of the ice. Then, surely it would crack and she would fall through. The water would be too cold to tread, the current would likely be very strong as it rushed her quickly under one of the unmelted sheets of ice so she couldn't breathe and her end would come. She would die before she could find a way to break the enchantment that kept her siblings bound into living the lives of great white birds.

She closed her eyes and prayed that at the very least, it would be over quickly. Still, she didn't let go of the net and as they were almost to the other side of the melting river, she did not plummet to her death as she had feared but rather, when her fingers finally did give way, she landed on a chilly, but very soft, downy turf getting nothing worse than a couple of bruises and a wetting from the dew for all her worries.

At that moment, the sun dipped lower towards the earth and the clouds turned crimson. Looking over at her brothers, Susan watched them flap their wings rabidly to ensure they too would be safely on the other side when the transformation took place.

"Well, that always takes one's breath away." Peter said, inhaling deeply as his body expanded and the white feathers turned to flesh. It didn't matter how many times they went through this, he could never get used to the changes that happened to him, Edmund, and Lucy every day at sunrise and sunset.

Edmund went over to Susan who was still sprawled out on the grass where she'd landed and helped her to her feet. "Are you alright, Su?"

"I think so." She told him, looking over at the river as a big chunk of ice split, broke off from it's lump, and traveled quickly down the current.

"Where's Lucy?" Peter said suddenly, looking both ways, his eyes widening in panic. "Wasn't she on your left when the net split, Ed?"

Edmund shook his head and gulped. "I thought she was on the other side of you."

"I thought she was under the net, trying to see if there was a way to fix it." said Susan, recalling seeing something white below her before she shut her eyes, although it might have just been a piece of ice or a bit of thick fog.

Edmund's eyes slid over to the floating ice. "Oh, Aslan, you don't think...when she turned back-" suddenly he was feeling very sick to his stomach.

"Lucy!" Peter cried out, cupping his hands around his mouth. _Please answer me, please!_ "Lucy, where are you?"

"Lucy!" Susan's voice chimed in shakily, tears springing up into her eyes.

Thankfully, when Lucy's body turned from a swan back into its little girl form, she was hovering above a floating piece of ice large enough to hold her up. She clung to it for a few moments; she tried to call out to her siblings but water splashed up and got into her mouth, muffling her cries for help. The ice was too slippery to continue clinging to for very long and soon she felt her toes hit the ice water and her tummy was siding lower and lower by the second. A moment later, she was all the way under. The water was freezing but she could tell she was near the shore.

I only have to kick a little longer, Lucy thought to herself-using every bit of strength in her arms to pull her small body up to the top of the breaking waves and flowing currant, just a little longer.

The harder she started to sink, the harder she kicked. Lucy managed by pretending she was just climbing up a very unstable ladder; she tried to ignore the fact that she couldn't breathe. Maybe she _could_ breathe underwater. Oh, she knew the very notion was preposterous, and if it had been Susan-she surely would have drowned unable to convince herself and keep panic at bay, but Lucy had always been a very imaginative child and now it served her well. Soon enough, her head was above water and her hands were groping for the shore.

When Peter started calling her name, she heard him and answered but her voice was too faint and low for him to hear her. However, as she scrambled onto land and stumbled towards her siblings, they caught sight of her pale, sobbing wet little body lumbering over to them and rushed to her side.

Peter reached her first and threw his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "Lucy!" He rubbed her tired arms and led her as far away from the edge of the water as possible. "Poor Lu, are you alright?"

"You're crying." Lucy noted weakly, blinking up at her eldest brother's tear stained face.

"I...I...I thought..." Peter stammered, his voice catching in his throat, smothering the words he was trying to say. "I thought...we had...I thought we'd lost you."

It seemed that he was more distraught over the whole event than Lucy, who had actually taken the unfortunate dunking, was. And as it happened, after she was warmed enough and could think clearly again, she did almost as much in the way of comforting him as he did for her.

Susan took Lucy in hand once they were finally able to pry her out of Peter's arms (and that was no small task), leading her over towards a small group of trees with brightly coloured flowers that gleamed like little florescent jewels in the ever-increasing light of the moon.

Edmund lingered behind everyone, even Peter, feeling rather guilty. If something had happened to Lucy, how would he ever have managed to live with the fact that it was his own fault? If he hadn't betrayed them, they would have never been turned into swans, would never have been flying over the frozen lake, and Lucy never would have fallen in. True, Aslan had said he was forgiven of his sin but that didn't take away the effects his actions had resulted in. For reassurance, he looked up ahead at Lucy-none the worse for her fall-and Susan in the front. They were safe and Aslan's camp was only a little ways away. Soon they would arrive and perhaps Aslan himself would turn up there in time also.

They walked all night though they hadn't slept all day and because of this, they were so tired that it seemed to them that they were walking and sleeping at the same time and it was something of a wonder that none of them wandered off course or into some dangerous crag on the way. Susan had a large blister on one heel by the time they arrived at the green-land base of tents made of rich amethyst and burgundy cut cloth held up with silver and gold pins.

It was just as the sun was rising and three exhausted white swans who's wings could not lift them one inch off the ground for weariness appeared where Peter, Edmund, and Lucy had been before. Susan sighed and picked up Lucy who was still, of course, the littlest of the swans and carried her over to a centaur wearing a scarlet army-belt around his horse-half who was apparently waiting for them.

"Your majesties," His large, tight torso flexed as he bent down in a graceful bow to the Princess and the three swans. He didn't seem to take note of the fact that they were birds or perhaps he would not give Jadis the satisfaction of giving attention to her handiwork, or else he was afraid to dishonour the royals no matter what form they arrived in.

The swan that had been Peter stifled a yawn and politely accepted the greeted as formally as a proper crown prince ought to before inquiring as to possible sleeping arrangements.

"Ah yes," The centaur said with a deep nod that made part of his horse-flanks sway just slightly. "We have a tent set aside for you, Aslan mentioned you would be coming."

The swan that had been little Lucy, suddenly awoke from sleep in Susan's arms at the sound of Aslan's name being spoken and blurted out, "Oh, is he here?"

The centaur shook his head. "Not presently, he comes and goes as he pleases, not a tame Lion, of course. But I haven't much doubt he'll be back soon, though, to Aslan, no one can know what _soon_ is."

Susan felt her heart sink just a little. She was not saddened because she missed the great Lion's presence and wished to see him as her sister did, but because she had been longing to ask him if he knew how to break the enchantment that Jadis had cast over her family. If he did, she had vowed secretly to herself that no matter how hard the task was, no matter how dangerous or frightening, she would do it and save them. Peter would become a human again and rule as high king of Narnia. Lucy deserved to be a daughter of Eve princess and as for Edmund, he was clearly sorry for the wrong he had done and he should get his place in life back as well.

She was, however, too tired to think about this for very long and as soon as her head hit one of the soft cushions in the tent the centaur led them to, she dozed off into a deep sleep with no dreams. When she awoke it was nighttime, and her siblings-humans once more-had left the tent and wandered off around the base to explore and speak to any of the soldiers who might still be up. Edmund had gone to ask the night-watch some questions about how the battle to rid Cair Paravel of Jadis was coming along because it seemed more likely that he, seeing everyone who came out and came in during the evening hours-usually after battles and trainings, might have gotten some word from the capitol.

Susan sighed and stretched her arms up over her head as she sat up and reached for her sandals. She put them on her feet and walked over to the front of the tent, lifting up the flap. From there, she could hear someone calling her name. It was a nice voice, she decided, a deep, rich, moving sort of tone. Her little sister would have recognized it after no more than the third time it had called out, but Susan was not so quick to put a name to the voice and by the fifth time, she was still somewhat uncertain. Suddenly though, in the pale blue-white glow of the brightest moonbeam that she had ever seen in her life, she saw him. The Lion, Aslan. He had returned to camp and was calling her over to him.

He was only a few inches away from the outside of the tent where she stood now and he was padding closer and closer with an expression that was somewhere between pleasant and a little displeased that she had not answered right away when he'd called on his beautiful golden face.

"Aslan," Susan managed at last, smiling faintly at the Lion.

"Susan," Aslan gently brushed the side of his mane up against her comfortingly. "you and I must speak alone, come for a walk with me."

"Yes, sir." said Susan in a respectful voice, lifting up the bottom of her dress so that she wouldn't trip over it and risk not keeping up with him.

"Child, I know you want to find a way to break the curse that holds your siblings from their true forms..." He sighed deeply, looking at her with his great eyes which shone brightly like great ponds of thick, gleaming-gold honey. "But..."

"What is it, Aslan?" Susan asked, looking very hard at him. "Isn't there a way?"

"It is very hard and very dangerous, daughter of Eve." warned Aslan, with a shake of his red-gold mane. "lives will hang in the balance."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it." Susan said all too quickly, looking determinedly at the Lion.

"The first matter, is that you, Susan, to save them, must take a vow of silence. You must never speak or laugh during your work to rescue them. You must not even write a note; no word other than your own first name may you put to paper, either. Even your surname would be forbidden to you, my poor child." Aslan sighed, blinking sympathetically at her.

Susan closed her eyes and sighed, "Go on."

"Well," Aslan took a deep breath and stopped padding on the ground for a moment to stand still and look directly into Susan's eyes. "While you were being quiet you must make three new shirts to replace and over-power the ones Jadis made."

"I cannot make enchanted shirts." Susan told him, feeling rather panicked and weak all of a sudden. "I do not know how; I would've never risked meddling with such forces."

"Susan, dear one, you will not be meddling with forces, only stopping them from further harm to your siblings." Aslan explained gently.

"Aslan," Susan said softly, feeling a little awkward about what she was going to ask. "Why is all this needed? Can you yourself do nothing?"

"I might have done something if Edmund had not helped her, for that makes him a traitor."

"Oh, Aslan, how could you?" Susan exclaimed indignantly, seemingly forgetting for a moment just who she was talking to. "To call him that after forgiving him and telling Peter and Lucy not to speak of his betrayal, it's cruel, Aslan, just plain beastly! I didn't think such behavior possible of you, really!"

Aslan didn't roar in a reprimand but let the girl speak, knowing how distressing this must be for her. When she had finished, he explained himself. "I do not see your brother as a traitor any longer, Susan, you must know that. But-to the enchantment-he is because he played a helping hand. This is why you must make new shirts and not speak nor laugh. For the second after taking a vow of silence and beginning your work, if you should break your word and speak or even chuckle slightly, ware danger to our dear Edmund."

"How do you mean?" Susan blinked at him in confusion.

"Peter and Lucy, well, they would simply remain swans for ever not changing back even at night, bad, yes, but not deathly-should you fail. But Edmund, your younger brother, should you fail, the poor boy's former blood-guilt would come back upon him and he would die in bitter repayment."

Susan started at the lion agape. Edmund, die? No, it wasn't fair! He was only a child, he hadn't meant to do anything wrong. It wasn't really his fault that their father was dead and that they were swans, he had only been misled! So that was it, then. She must save them, and she must not speak.

"Then I shall not speak or laugh." Susan whispered both to herself and to the Lion.

Aslan nodded at her gravely. "Then this is how it must be, you will make the shirts out of this." He clapped his front paws together making a marvelous din. When he opened them again, there was in the middle of the soft velvet pads at the soles, four large clews of silvery coloured yarn. "You will knit them, each so that they fit over the right one of your siblings snuggly but comfortably, too."

"I'll do it." Susan promised.

"You are a good self-less princess of Narnia." Aslan told her. "Your goodness is worthy of being royal salvation, remember that."

She blushed slightly, the corners of her mouth turning upwards just a little bit.

"Now then," said Aslan, slowly lifting up his paw now that she had taken the yawn away from it. "I will place my paw on your shoulder and from that moment on, you must not speak or laugh, understood? Oh, and one other thing, even if you should finish the shirts, don't speak. Your silence must last for two and a half years no matter what, is that understood as well?"

She nodded and sighed deeply.

"From the moment it comes down upon you, you will feel a great weight on your shoulders and around your heart but you must not let it stop you from your work." Was his final warning.

"I see, Aslan." Susan said understandingly.

He lifted his paw and placed it on her right shoulder. Oh, how heavy it was! Susan felt as if it would shove her to the ground and sink her right into the underworld itself if there was really such a place. The paw was removed but just as he had warned her, she did not feel a releasing of pressure. It made her heart ache and her body feel weak but she dragged her feet along back to the tent where she picked up some knitting needles and began her work even though moonlight wasn't the best lighting for such a job.

Peter, Edmund, and Lucy returned just before dawn to find Susan sitting outside the tent with a pair of knitting needles working very hard on something, squinting at the thick silver yarn she was using very intently, barely noticing them arrive even.

"Susan?" Peter said, coming closer to her. "What are you doing?"

She looked up at him but did not answer.

"Su?" He pressed, feeling quite confused by her quiet manner. "What are you doing?"

She shook her head and touched her throat trying to signal to him that she couldn't speak.

"What sorcery is this?" Peter wondered aloud, thinking perhaps Jadis had done something to their sister now, too. To return and find their clever sister mute and dumb and knitting at such an odd hour was rather puzzling.

Lucy tried to speak to Susan as well, and though she smiled at her little sister, she didn't answer her questions or even so much as open her mouth.

"She's completely mute, Peter." Edmund realized. "She's not saying _anything_."

"She is keeping her vow, son of Adam, she will not speak if it means you losing your life." A voice from behind them said.

They turned around to see Aslan. Though the three of them pestered him with questions, Susan did nothing but blink at him respectfully, force a smile, and continue on with the knitting.

It was all explained to them why their sister was suddenly struck dumb and why they would not hear her voice again until the shirts-which as it turned out where very hard to make because it took an enormous amount of work to weave the yarn into shape-were finished and two and a half years had passed.

They were all moved, but Edmund, who's life hung in the balance, was so moved by his sister's love for them that hot tears sprang up into his eyes and he embraced her tightly. From her hard knitting, her fingers had become sore but when her younger brother's tears fell upon them, they stopped hurting altogether.

And that was how it was, for two and a half years, Susan became speechless; her lips never moved, but her hands rarely remained still.


	9. Taken away

_We are still living at Aslan's camp, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_I have not spoken since Aslan's paw was placed on my shoulder and I took a vow of silence._

_As for laughing, I don't find that as hard as you might think._

_I don't seem to have any inclination to it I guess you could say._

_Peter says it's a good thing we aren't relying on Lucy to be quiet._

_Edmund chimes in that he would be dead as a doornail already if it was her and not me._

_Lucy smacks him in the face with one of the pillows in our pavilion._

_It does make me smile, but even when I see things like that, I don't feel like laughing anymore, lives in the balance or not._

_My heart feels too heavy._

_I have never noticed before how weak and bony my fingers are._

_Though I have never had a problem with needle-point or sewing before, knitting this silver yard is difficult._

_Sometimes I get so close to getting a whole sleeve done and then I discover one little mistake that if I don't remove, will cause the entire thing to unravel._

_I want to weep and scream but I do not, I just sit dumb and quiet._

_Edmund is being nothing short of pillar of strength and comfort for me._

_If he ever finds me alone in the evenings working on my knitting and there is nothing really to say, he gives up speaking, too;_

_content merely to sit by me giving a friendly glance and little half-smiles whenever I let out an aggravated sigh and fling my work down into my lap for a few minutes._

_One morning, I awaken to find the day is simply teaming with warm sunshine._

_My siblings, the swans, have already flown away for whatever reason._

_I don't think much of it, sometimes they do this and don't return until evening._

_I don't mind so much, I'd much rather see them in their true forms._

_Each evening, when I see their real-human-faces smiling at me, is a reminder of what exactly it is I am sacrificing for._

_So I take my knitting outside and plan to sit under a large maple tree I come across only a few feet away from the main camp._

_I am wearing my elder brother's chain-mail over my dress for protection just in case; I have always been the cautious sort._

_When I actually arrive under the tree, however, I notice all of the knobby branches above me and decide it might be nicer to sit up there than on the grass below._

_I have never been much of a climber so I only make it to the very lowest branches but that's alright,_

_It's still a comfortable seat for me and a pretty view to look at while I keep on knitting silently._

* * *

Caspian the tenth, crown prince of Telmar-a land that was to the north-west of the Narnian borders-was riding along on his horse, Destier, with his hunting party. They had apparently left Telmar now and were somewhere in what he was pretty sure was part of that enthralling country called Narnia. Ridding along this way wasn't really necessary but Caspian had insisted upon it because it was a pretty place to travel through and didn't really take them as far off-course as you might have thought.

All his life, he had had a strange fascination with the country of Narnia though he wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was his nurse from when he was a very little boy; she had been Narnian and had told the most wonderful stories about her native country. She made it sound so wonderful-so unlike the rather ordinary, uninteresting land of Telmar. Then there had been his tutor, of whom there had been strange rumors about. People used to whisper that his mother wasn't a human.

"If she's not a human," Caspian had asked one day when he found a servant foolish enough to gossip with a crown prince. "then what is she?"

"A black Narnian dwarf from the northern mountains." The servant had whispered in his ear before dashing off.

 _A black dwarf!_ Those exciting, fairy-tale like words rang in his ears for hours before he was finally able to will the tips of his fingers to stop tingling from the sheer thrill of them.

He knew about Narnia only what he could get out of his tutor here and there because his uncle, who had been ruling in place of his father as King until Caspian came of age, did not seem to like his nephew's fascination with Narnia and discouraged most talk of it. He had learned from a very early age that it wasn't a good idea to say, "Did you know..." and follow it with some exciting Narnian fact at the dinner table.

It had soon become apparent to the prince-he was a young man now, of course-that the only way he was going to really learn about Narnia for himself was in short visits he and the men loyal to him could risk veering off into during the hunting trips Miraz-his uncle-had always insisted he go on.

"It'll make you a man." He used to say, his chin held up high and all proper-like.

Caspian didn't see what exactly was so manly about shooting at animals and riding around aimlessly in the woods for hours but he'd learned not to argue.

Still, he always made sure his men never, no matter what happened, shot any animal they had met in Narnia. One of the stories his nurse had told him had been about magic animals in her country who could talk and think like men. If he ever killed one of these, even by mistake, he knew he would never be able to live with the guilt.

"What do you see ahead?" Caspian leaned forward in his saddle and called out to his head hunter who was peering through a pair of gold-rimmed binoculars.

"My prince, I see a group of trees and an army camp ahead." He told him in a run of the mill sort of fashion, clearly not sharing his master's interest in looking at the land.

Well, thought Caspian, I certainly don't want to get myself into any trouble with the soldiers as it could look rather bad if a bunch of unannounced Telmarine noblemen with weapons just came thudding by, but I don't think I want to head for home just yet either.

"Let's go a little more inwards," Caspian decided, grabbing a tighter hold on his horse's reins and motioning over at the group of trees a little ways off from the army camp."

If the animals could talk, could the trees talk, too? Could they think? He wanted to see for himself even if it was rather unlikely for a dryad to appear in front of this many men.

"Your highness," one of the hunters said, ridding up beside him as they traveled along. "I was wondering if perhaps any maiden in court has caught your eye, as sooner or later you must marry and-"

Caspian groaned and rolled his eyes. How many people were going to keep on pestering him to get married? He'd marry when he found the right lady and he hadn't found her yet. The court girls were too giggly and flirty for his tastes and the visiting dignitaries' daughters were always coy or else very, very forward so that he _wished_ they were coy.

"You realize, crown prince," The hunter said a little while later when he realized Caspian wasn't listening to him and was too caught up in the day to pay his blabbing traveling companion any mind. "that the right lady will not simply appear to you if you are not looking for her."

"That's nice." Caspian brushed him off absent-mindedly.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "Honestly! Listen to me, sire, women do not just fall from the sky."

Suddenly a slender, brown sandal fell seemingly out of no where and hit Caspian on the head. "Ow!"

"Though apparently their shoes do." Another hunter chuckled, taking in Caspian's confused expression as he stared at the shoe in his hand.

"Who's throwing sandals?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"I say!" Whistled the head hunter, looking upwards.

"What is it?" Caspian's eyes followed the head hunter's and they widened when he saw the cause of all this hubbub.

There was a beautiful girl sitting in the tree, looking down at them nervously. A pale, pretty face and small figure surrounded by long, dark hair. Her eyes were bright though she seemed too stunned to speak as she tried to edge closer to the middle of the tree though it wasn't of much use. On her person she wore a fine, yet rather simple, dress under a shirt of gray chain-mail that was too big on her slender body, clearly having been made for someone else; presumably the someone was a man or at least a boy from the looks of the tailoring.

"Hello there." Caspian said in a friendly tone.

Susan-for, of course, that was who the knitting girl wearing chain mail in the tree was-gulped and didn't say a word though certainly his presence was a bit alarming to her. She wanted to cry out for her brothers but she didn't dare. Both because of her vow and because the hunters all had arrows and might shoot them, and then where would they be? Thinking quickly, she unfastened a little gold bracelet she had on her wrist and threw it down to them. There, let them focus on gold-noblemen in general were supposed to love gold-that and leave her alone.

But they didn't take any notice of the golden trinket, they had eyes only for the maiden who'd thrown it to them. They called to her but she didn't say anything, just held tighter to her knitting needles and clews of yarn.

"Please lady, we mean you no harm." Caspian told her kindly, getting down from his horse and standing a little closer to the tree.

Susan shook her head and tried to ignore them and reassume knitting, hoping they'd lose interest and go away.

The next thing she knew, however, strong arms were pulling her against her will down from the tree over towards the young man who was a Telmarine royalty of some sort.

Good god, Caspian thought when he saw her up close, she's stunning! If only she didn't look so frightened, the poor thing.

Maybe she didn't understand him. "Do you understand me, lady?"

Susan nodded but she didn't open her mouth.

"Can you not speak?" Caspian asked gently, feeling pity for her now. The poor lass, all alone in that tree with her strange knitting unable to speak and now...Oh, the poor thing.

Having no other way to explain, Susan shook her head.

Caspian's face softened even more. "Where did you come from?"

Susan's eyes narrowed with a bit of annoyance and she touched her throat, reminding him that she couldn't speak. Then, she tried to walk away but the hunters grabbed her arms so firmly that their nails dug into the chain-mail, pressing it through the dress leaving hard imprints on her arms making them ache terribly, and would not let her out of their tight circle.

"What are we going to do with her, your highness?" The head hunter asked.

"Do with her?" echoed Caspian, glancing at the pretty Narnian lady and then to the hunters and then back to her again. "I suppose we can't leave her here."

Susan wanted to scream out, "Yes you can! Go away!" but the image of her younger brother lying dead popped into her mind and shut her up good. She wouldn't speak, no matter what. A vow was a vow. Two and a half years. That was the way it must be.

Suddenly something in Caspian's brain clicked. She was a _Narnian_! she was a real breathing, thinking Narnian. Maybe if he could teach her to speak, she could tell him all about the country he admired, maybe they could even be friends. She couldn't be very much younger than he was; he'd always wanted a Narnian friend close to his own age.

"Let's take her back with us." Caspian said, getting very excited by this point. He gave her a kind smile. "Listen, lady, we're going to take good care of you, you don't have to be afraid. You'll get to stay in a nice castle and I'm going to teach you how to speak."

Oh no you're not, thought Susan-trying to make another run for it before one of the men grabbed her and gently-surprising for the roughness they'd been displaying up until that point-placed her on the back of Caspian's horse. The knitting needles, her work, and the yarn were pried out of her hands and stuffed into one of Caspian's saddle bags.

At this, because she had no way of protesting, tears filled her eyes and she began to weep very hard. They were taking her away from her swan siblings, away from Aslan, away from the camp, away from Narnia, away from all she had ever known.

Suddenly over-run with guilt for making her cry so hard, Caspian turned around on his horse to face her. "Look," He tried to reassure her in a soft voice. "Nothing bad is going to happen. It's for your own good, really." She would be better off in a castle with servants and people to look after her than in a wood near an army base at any rate so why did she carry on so?

Well, thought Caspian, it must be a little alarming and shocking all the same and as she has no way of communicating with us it must be no doubt very frustrating as well.

It didn't matter, he decided, he could fix all that. He had never tried to teach a mute to speak before but honestly, how hard could it be? She seemed smart enough at the very least, maybe she could write and they could get her a slate and then she could tell them who she was and what she was doing up there in that tree all alone.

And with that, Susan-unable to speak up and defend herself-was carried off many miles away to the land of Telmar.


	10. The Narnian professor

_We are separated again, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_The prince's horse gallops into a cobble-stone courtyard with bubbling fountains that look like large-chested, naked women (A crude depiction of mermaids?) with pursed lips._

_In front of me, looming like a great unbending fort, is the large stone Telmarine castle._

_Whereas the castle I grew up in, Cair Paravel, was strong, it was also friendly-looking and inviting._

_This castle is not._

_I feel like a small child and oddly enough, in spite of my fear, I almost-not quite, but almost-want to laugh because of keen a desire I sudden have to starting blubbering like an infant._

_It's one of those 'laugh so you can make yourself stop crying' things, I guess._

_But I know I cannot laugh anymore than I can speak, it isn't allowed._

_So the only noise that comes out of my throat is a strangled-sounding whimper rather reminiscent of the bays the hunter's hounds might make when they are frightened by a thunderstorm._

_Some of the kinder-faced hunters give me a sort of understanding half-smile._

_It does little good because the gesture reminds me of Edmund and suddenly it dawns on me that I might never see him again-I might never see any of them again-and I burst into a fresh round of tears._

_How would they know to look for me here in Telmar of all places?_

* * *

The first to see Prince Caspian and his hunting party entering the courtyard were the stable-hands who's job it was to be ready for arrivals on horseback, be they members of the court or visitors, in order to take the horses in hand so that the arrivals could carry out their business without having the bother of looking after their steeds.

When they noticed the beautiful young lady on Destier's back, their eyes widened with surprise and though it was not really their place to say anything, a few of them forgot themselves and whispered rather loudly about the strangeness of the situation.

Once Destier was properly tied up and the grooms came forward carrying buckets of cool water and suds to wash his coat with, Caspian let out a slight sigh and got off his back. Turning around, he lifted up his arms to help Susan down. She excepted his hands silently, although he noticed her shoulders were still shaking with sobs; she was unhappy, that much was certain. But why? Couldn't she understand that this was what was best for her? Here, she could be dressed like the stately lady she obviously was-no more of man's chain-mail for her, have ladies-in-waiting to look after her, and would have plenty of tutors. She could learn to talk, didn't that please her?

"Come," He said softly, still holding her hand, leading her to the three stone steps that led up out of the stable into the castle's corridors.

Finally able to will herself to stop weeping for bewilderment, Susan used her free hand to lift the long skirt of her dress up a little so she didn't trip as she was tugged along. If it hadn't been for her vow of silence, she would have asked him to slow down a little; he wasn't exactly racing, but it wouldn't have killed him to take one stride at a time.

"You'll like it here," Caspian promised, pausing for a moment to turn around and smile at her reassuringly. "It's nicer than that tree anyway. I do wish you could tell me what you were doing there in the first place." He sighed and continued to pull her along. He noticed now that she kept looking back over her shoulders as if worried about some possession that was left behind. The only thing he could think of that she had had would be her knitting needles and thread. "If it is your knitting that is bothering you, you needn't worry. The servants will bring it up to your room later. For now, there's someone I want you to meet."

Susan blinked indifferently and sighed deeply. This would have been so much easier if she could have just hated him, if he was a heartless monster who had knowingly torn her away from her family. It was much more difficult to be angry with a prince who seemed to be trying to help-in spite of all the trouble he was causing for her-and appeared to have no malicious intentions. If only there was some way to get him to listen to her; but how could she tell him anything if she couldn't speak? He didn't even know her name; what hope was there of him learning the truth about her and the enchantment she was trying to save her siblings from?

The corridors they traveled through widened and were more luxurious-they must have been in the main parts of the castle now, the parts reserved for the royal family's household use. Amethyst-coloured tapestries hung from the white-and-silver walls. Looking upwards as she dashed along behind the prince, Susan could catch glimpses of a high celing painted dark blue with little bits of crystals scattered pretend-randomly here to make it look like a night sky. They made a sharp left turn and went down some passages lined with plain gray stone though the carpet below was very fine and coloured scarlet.

Finally, they'd arrived at their destination. A door very like all the ones they'd passed on the way except for this one had a golden lion-head knocker on the front. The Lion's mane was carved delicately so that it looked like it was flowing in a gentle wind even though it wasn't moving so much as an inch and its mouth was opened in what Susan felt certain was song, not a roar. She knew this must be a depiction of Aslan; there wasn't a doubt in her mind as to that. Whomever lived in the room behind the door was either Narnian themselves or loved Narnia very much.

If only they loved Narnia enough to bring me back to Aslan's camp-to my dear swan siblings so I might break their enchantment and put my elder brother Peter on his throne as high king where he belongs, thought Susan glumly-suddenly feeling very sure that if only she were allowed to speak, only a few short words would convince whomever lived behind the door to help her. But she thought of two swans who had once been human and one dead boy and her tongue felt so heavy she knew she couldn't lift it even if she went mad and decided to break her vow right then and there.

Caspian grinned at her. "You'll love my professor," He lowered his voice. "He's a Narnian."

Yes, I know, Susan thought snappishly-rolling her eyes, I gathered that just from looking at the door, haven't you got anything useful to say? Ugh, I cannot believe that you kidnapped me, brought me here, and I almost feel sorry for you! I feel sorry for you and I don't even know _why_!

"His name is Doctor Cornelius." Caspian prattled on obliviously, reaching up and pounding the golden knocker on the door in three very in-tune, short-winded taps. "He's in my tutor in-" He stopped talking to take a breath and to think for a quick second. "-well, pretty much everything." He shrugged his shoulders and lifted the knocker again, slamming it down a little harder this time.

Susan must have winced or at least cringed slightly because the next thing Caspian said to her was, "He's a little hard of hearing sometimes." in a defensive sort of way, as if he didn't want her to think he was being rude towards his own professor of all people.

The door creaked open and Susan could now see the that frame-work of the door was arched in a rather un-Telmarine fashion, though considering who lived there, she didn't find it terribly surprising-there had been plenty of doors that shape in Cair Paravel and in the homes of nobles her father used to take her and her siblings to visit sometimes.

As for the man who had answered the door, Susan could tell right away that he was indeed half-dwarf; even if he had a good foot of height over the tallest of any of the dwarfs she had ever met in her lifetime. He had pinkish, fleshy, round cheeks and a small round nose sitting in the middle to match them. His whole face was rather round but in a more solemn sort of way rather than a jolly one and his long beard was white as snow, making him look quite a bit like Father Christmas.

This half-dwarf man-Caspian's tutor-stepped out of the way for them to walk in, never taking his eyes off of Susan, as if hypnotized by her. She felt terribly awkward as if he was looking at every step she took and giving each one an absurd about of undue admiration. Once the door was shut behind the three of them, Doctor Cornelius turned to Susan and took a step closer to her; squinting very hard at her face as he peered up into it.

"Professor," Caspian said in a tone that was probably supposed to sound formal but had too much familiarity slipping into it to seem believable. "There is someone I would like you to meet."

"I can see that." Doctor Cornelius said, his eyes still fixed unwaveringly on Susan.

They stood in complete silence for a few moments until Doctor Cornelius spoke again. "Ah, so you are Narnian."

There was such warmth in his tone, and the accent he didn't repress even slightly was so dearly familiar, that Susan actually smiled in spite of herself. It was a small smile containing no intense joy, only a bit of quiet comfort the way a child who has had a good cry and felt as if the world had ended and then caught a glimpse of their favorite stuffed animal might smile, but it still made her look better than the expression she'd been wearing on her face up until that point did. Caspian looked relieved as if he had been worried that she didn't know how to smile anymore than she knew how to speak, but was now reassured that there wasn't anything wrong with her after all.

Susan nodded in answer to the professor's question and he added, "You _speak_ Narnian?" his eyebrows raising up in his forehead in a hopeful expression.

Now she was stuck. She did speak Narnian-and other native tongues as well for that matter-but if she nodded, he would expect her to talk to him and then what would she do about her vow? Maybe it was better to sort of lie-was it possible to lie without speaking? Susan found it was, it was also the only way to get herself out of the mess. She shook her head no.

"She doesn't seem to be able speak at all." Caspian chimed in helpfully.

Doctor Cornelius didn't seem to care; holding out his hands to Susan, he said, "But you _feel_ Narnian?" He beamed at her. "You feel Narnian because you _are_ Narnian."

How kind he was! It wasn't much of a wonder that Caspian was so fond of his tutor; anyone else might have at least been a little disappointed that she couldn't speak Narnian and it would have been perfectly understandable all the same.

"You remind me of another Narnian I knew once." his tone was graver now. "She was a beautiful queen who died in childbirth. The King had a pet-name for her, I recall," His eyes grew a little misty and distant. "What was it? 'Nellie', I think was what he used to call her."

Mother, Susan realized-tears welling up in her own eyes, he means my mother; she died giving birth to Lucy.

How badly Susan wished she could tell him who she was, that the queen he spoke of was her own mother and the king her own dear, but now also dead, father. He loved his native country so dearly that she was fairly aching to tell him she was a princess there. But she couldn't, so she didn't. However, she suddenly realized that there might be one way of telling this half-dwarf who she was without speaking, or at least, she hoped it would work.

Around her neck, she had been wearing a golden chain with Queen Helen's ring strung on it like a pendent which she tucked under her dress between her breasts. Susan did this for safe-keeping because when their father had taken them away from Cair Paravel to the tower, she had secretly been afraid that Jadis would get a hold of it. She had every intention of giving it back to Peter when the enchantment was finally broken; after all, it was rightfully his. Susan just couldn't bear to think of the white witch having the ring that rightfully belonged to her brother's future bride _and_ sitting on a throne in Cair Paravel-the mere thought was sickening! And of course, she wouldn't wear it on her finger although it fit perfectly, still dreadfully embarrassed over the last time she'd tried it on, thus stringing it onto a chain was the only solution she could come up with.

As she reached down into the chain-mail into the front of her dress, she tried not to think about how much it reminded her that she might never see her siblings again, that she might never get a chance to give the ring back to Peter like she had promised herself she would, and lifted up the golden chain to show the ring to Doctor Cornelius.

The old dwarf-man's eyes widened with surprise; he rubbed them and blinked twice to assure himself they weren't playing tricks on him. It was a royal ring-the ring of Queen Helen, first wife of the late King Frank himself! It glittered in the dim dusty-window lighting in the room, shinning brighter than any of the Narnian artifacts the professor had piled about in the oval-shaped corners.

"Where did you get this, child?" He gasped.

"What is it?" Caspian asked his tutor, surprised by his reaction.

"That ring belonged to Queen Helen of Narnia." He shook his head and sighed to himself. "If I am not mistaken, this lovely child is a royal-or at the very least, a noblewoman. Otherwise, how could she have gotten her hands on such a precious keep-sake?"

"Royalty?" Caspian raised an eyebrow at her.

Susan nodded, tucked the ring back into the folds of the fabric under the chain-mail covering her chest, and looked back at the professor.

"Hmm..." Doctor Cornelius stroked his chin pensively. "From what I can gather, this young Narnian lass must have been one of the castle-children who lived in the great capital of Cair Paravel during his majesty King Frank's blessed rein before he married the witch Jadis (Who some mistakenly call, 'The White Lady'). They're still at war with her now, you know. Surely, this brave child took it upon herself to save the ring of Queen Helen-as tradition holds it's to be given to the bride of the eldest son of the king, not any second wife he might acquire for himself."

Susan wanted to scream out of frustration. She wasn't one of the 'castle-children', she was one of the immediate royal family-she was Frank's own eldest daughter! Peter, the one who rightfully should have been King of the Narnians now that King Frank had passed away, was her own flesh-and-blood brother! She was a _princess_! But of course, there was no way of explaining this to them, so she sighed again and gave up trying. It was hopeless anyway.

Meanwhile, back at Aslan's camp, just as the sun was setting, three lovely white swans flapped their wings as they flew back to their tent. In a graceful swoop, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, they turned back into the humans, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.

"Susan, we're back." Edmund called out to his sister, opening the flap of their tent expecting to see her there either sleeping or else knitting, as she did little else these days, all in hopes of saving them; but she wasn't there.

"Susan?" Lucy tried, surprised when their sister did not come and greet them as she usually did. Of course, she didn't speak now, but she still always came to meet them in the evenings all the same. She couldn't speak, yet she still embraced them and smiled and listened while they talked about their day. Now though, she wasn't anywhere to be found.

Knowing they were tired from flying all day and a little shut eye would do them worlds of good, Peter told Edmund and Lucy to go to sleep while he went out to look for her. He tried to down-play his nervousness so as not to frighten the younger set.

"She must have just fallen asleep under a tree or be visiting with someone in one of the other army tents, it's nothing to worry about, really." he told them in a pretend-cheerful voice. It was pretend because deep down he had this horrible feeling that something awful had happened to her-but he wouldn't give himself up to panic until he was at least sure she hadn't just wandered off.

He searched the whole camp and even the fridges of the near-by woods knowing she wouldn't have willingly wandered any further away on her own, all to no avail. No one had seen her for several hours and most of them were quick to point out that she was so quiet that it was hard to keep track of her-that it wasn't their fault that she was missing. Peter didn't blame them, he didn't know who to blame; he couldn't even blame himself because as a swan, even if he had been there, he knew he couldn't have offered her much protection.

Any hopes of asking Aslan if he knew where Susan had gone to were soon thwarted as well. The Lion had gone away early that morning-towards the east-and there was no telling where he had been going or when he would be coming back. Everyone knew he was not a tame Lion or an all-seeing magician to go running to when the going got tough. He was their leader, he was the king of their kings, but he wasn't always there.

"Hang in there, Susan," Peter whispered, as he walked dejectedly back towards the camp's tents, his shoulders slummed and his heart heavy. "Where ever you are, I'll come and find you just as soon as I can, everything's going to be fine." Not without a little pang of despair, Peter realized that he was saying that last bit mostly to comfort and convince himself.


	11. Susan in Telmar

_We remain apart, my brothers, my sister, and I._

_How very lost I feel without them._

_It was bad enough when I was living with Tumnus until the winter ended._

_At least then, there were still some ties to familiar things;_

_he knew my mother, he was Narnian-I've never met any fauns who weren't, and I was still in my native country._

_Here, However, I am in some strange land that before now I have only heard about in the history books-not very good ones, might I add._

_I have no doubts that Telmar, for the most part, probably considers Narnia barbaric-probably because they do a great deal of trading with Calormen who always calls us names._

_I know the Telmarine prince likes Narnians though;_

_he adores his half-dwarf tutor, and of course, for some reason or other, has decided to constantly hover around me in hopes I will suddenly stop being mute and talk to him._

_In vain, I know that he will keep on trying to teach me to speak._

_At least the servants have followed his orders and brought my knitting up to the bed chamber set aside for me._

_Which, even if he doesn't know I am a princess, is certainly grand enough for one._

_So after being draped in silken gowns and letting ladies-in-waiting who's names I haven't managed-or bothered, I guess you could say-to learn fix my hair into elaborate braids strung with tiny strings of pearls,_

_I spend my days in a little rocking-chair by a large stain-glass window knitting silently, always silently._

_I notice a calendar on the wall when I happen to glance up randomly from my work._

_Two and a half years has never felt so far away._

_Mostly now, my eyes are dry but every once in a while, I let myself go and I cry and cry until I feel just a little better._

_Inwardly I am sobbing like a small girl no older than my little sister, Lucy, was-is, although she is so far away from me now._

_The words my heart wails are always the same, "I want to go home."_

_But the Prince is only trying to help, my good sense tells me._

_But his tutor is so kind, my ever practical self reprimands me._

_But you aren't a little girl anymore, Susan, you haven't got a right to carry on like this, my pride reminds me harshly._

_Deep down inside though I can't will myself to be calm._

_Passive, yes, very passive._

_What choice do I have in that?_

_What hopes of resisting without speaking can my mind carry?_

_The answer is this, none._

_I am trapped._

_There is no other way than for me to stay here in the Telmarine castle until either the prince finally tires of me-and he doesn't seem the sort, as I can't help getting to know him the longer I stay here in his home-or else the two and a half years comes to an end._

* * *

Whenever Susan was not sitting in her rocking-chair by the stain glass window, knitting ever so quietly and carefully (by now she had finally managed to get one whole sleeve almost done although she was certain she'd make a mistake and have to start over long before it was actually completed), she was more often than not, in the castle library.

This was not, as one might at first assume, because she loved books-she _liked_ them, certainly, but not enough to spend as much time there as she did. She was there because Caspian would always send for her to meet him there; still firm in his belief that with a little encouragement and help, his pretty Narnian foundling could-and surely would-learn to speak.

So he took her in hand, leading her to a long marble-and-wood desk with a few slightly worn-looking leather-bound books, yellowed notepapers, new clean white sheets of paper, a couple jars of ink, and two pearly-white feathered-quills scattered messily and neatly stacked by turn. Handing one of the quills to her, he asked if she could write her name.

Susan nodded, knowing perfectly well that it was the _only_ thing she was allowed to write, and took the quill from him. She worried dreadfully that once she had put her first name to paper, he would expect more from her and she would have no way of explaining why she could write nothing else. However, she was sick to death of being called, 'foundling' (even if it did sound sort of nice the way Caspian said it) and 'Narnian Lady' or even just plain 'Narnian'. Yes, she was Narnian and she was proud of it, but she yearned to be called by her name and not her race.

I don't suppose Prince Caspian would like it very much If I _did_ speak and took to calling him, 'Telmarine', all the time, Susan thought exasperatedly-getting rather fed up by this point, but of course, it isn't really his fault, he doesn't know what else to call me.

Susan decided she was going to change that and risk writing her first name; hopefully he wouldn't expect a surname also because she had no way of telling him what it was anymore than she could explain the enchantment that kept her siblings bound and her voice muted. Taking the quill in her hand, amazed at how heavy her shaking wrist suddenly felt, she dipped it in the ink and tried to keep from shuddering and knocking the jar over. Slowly, her hand went to the paper and Caspian peered over her shoulder eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation. What would she write? What would she try to tell him? Could she explain herself at last? At least, he would finally know what her name was.

First she slowly dragged the quill along forming the first letter, _S._ For a moment she felt horrible, as if she had broken some unspoken law even though she had done nothing wrong; then as soon as she added the rest of the letters to her first name and placed the quill back down on the desk, she felt perfectly fine.

Caspian looked down and read her name out loud. " _Susan_."

Susan smiled faintly-a rather sweet smile considering all the mental anguish she was going through at the time-and nodded as if to say, "Yes, that's right."

"Nice." Caspian said simply with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Now," He handed the quill back to her, looking at her with a very teacher-like expression. "Can you write down something else? Perhaps what you were doing in that tree or where you came from?"

Susan shook her head and placed the quill back down on the table.

Confused, Caspian's eyebrows crinkled slightly and he blinked at her with a puzzled expression. "Why not?"

Shaking her head again, she touched her throat.

"Were you born mute, is that it?" He asked kindly, wondering if perhaps there had been something the matter with her throat at birth.

Susan probably could have nodded yes but something inside her felt inclined the other way and she shook her head no yet again. She hadn't been born mute, nor had she exactly had it forced upon her, she was silent because it was the only way to save her family-her siblings were all she had left and she loved them. _All_ of them. She couldn't let her eldest brother lose his throne for ever and live the life of a bird until some idiot hunter came and shot him down as likely as not. And how could she bear the thought of her sweet little sister, dear darling little Lucy, trapped permanently in a form that was not her own? Worst of it all, was the thought of Edmund dying, dying for a mistake, a mistake that was supposed to be forgiven of him.

"So you have spoken before?" Caspian realized, sounding a bit more mystified now. Even though he never said the words, 'cursed' or 'enchantment' to himself, it would have been lying to say that they hadn't crossed his mind for at least a moment.

Susan blinked at him sadly. Yes, she had spoken _before_ ; no, she wouldn't speak to him _now_.

Suddenly inspired, Caspian stood up and went over to a near-by shelf, running his thumb along a few books' spines until he found the one he wanted, taking it and bringing it over to Susan. It was an atlas, a book of maps. In it there were maps of Telmar, Narnia, Archenland, and a little bit of Ettinsmoor as well.

He opened it to the 'Telmar' section first and pointed to where the castle was located. "This is where we are now, Susan." He licked his thumb and flipped the pages forward until it came to the 'Narnia' section and pointed to an area near the army camp. "This is where I found you."

She willed herself not to snatch the book out of his hands, run off, steal a horse, and use the map to guide her back to the camp. The thought did cross her mind and the temptation was nothing short of intense but she was well-aware that it was a mad endeavor and quite hopeless. Everyone always had their eyes on her. The prince, his tutor, the servants, the courtiers, everyone. They'd all see her trying to run away and stop her instantly. The last thing she needed was to be accused of being a runaway thief in addition to being presumed dumb.

"Can you show me where you came from?" He nudged the book closer to her.

For some reason, Susan found her eyes drifting passed the part that showed the shores of Cair Paravel over to the lantern waste where their tower-palace, their so-called safe place, had been. That supposed 'everlasting' secret holiday. As the days had passed one after another and there was no other way around it, it had become home. Of course, Caspian was probably just waiting for her to point to Cair Paravel and reaffirm what he and his tutor assumed about her-that she was one of the castle children-but Susan didn't point to the dot representing the lovely castle by the eastern sea at all. Rather, she placed her middle and index fingers on the tall black line that stood for the lamppost and traced it along in a route down to where Tumnus's house must have been and then to the frozen lake and beyond even that to the army camp he had found her near-by. In her own wordless way, she was showing him where she'd really come from; but he didn't understand.

How was it that she could be from _all_ of these different places? He wondered, completely bemused and at quite a loss. What was it exactly she was trying to tell him? What was she trying to say? That she herself had _been_ to all of these places? or perhaps that she knew someone who had traveled that route before?

After a few moments of her earnest stares answered only by his own slight frowns and blank stares in return, Caspian decided it was probably best to forget the map and move on. They weren't getting anywhere this way. So he moved that book aside and picked up one he had originally selected for this meeting in the library-a dictionary of word pronouncements.

An hour later, in spite of all his best efforts, he had not managed to coax one single solitary word from her mouth. Not even one little stutter or an attempt at mouthing out a sound, nothing. She seemed to be paying attention to him, albeit a bit annoyed with him at the times when he forgot himself and dumbed down the material he was trying to teach her a bit (it didn't take Caspian long to figure out that whatever else she was, Susan of Narnia was not, by any stretch of the imagination, unintelligent and didn't like people thinking otherwise). But the only sounds that came out of her were sighs or a snort of contempt for something she disagreed with here and there. Oddest of all, though she would smile, she never laughed. Not even when she seemed genuinely amused by something.

Perhaps she's just homesick, Caspian thought-quickly reassuring himself that what he was doing was for her own good to lessen the little pangs of guilt that smacked him at random moments when he thought of her sad, tear-stained face that first day.

After Susan had been in Telmar for nearly three weeks, Caspian told her he wanted her to meet his Uncle Miraz and his Aunt who was-unfortunately-called Prunaprismia.

"They've surely heard of you by now." He explained as he led her down the towards the throne-room. "They have been away for the last few weeks, visiting Ettinsmoor-some nobleman there invited them for tea and they proceeded to stay for several."

Susan smiled, realizing that he was telling a joke. Her eyes seemed about right but no actual sound suggesting laughter came out of her mouth and her shoulders didn't shake or look even the slightest bit repressed.

Darn, thought Caspian-shrugging off his disappointment, I thought she might have laughed at that one, I do wish she looked a little happier or at least showed interest in something other than that knitting she's always doing; it _does_ make her look so depressed.

The throne-room was a pale, dusty-coloured, wide, hallway-like chamber with a large gray throne at the front of the room and a few others on the sides like you might see in a consul chamber (there were in fact a few well-dressed, Telmarine lords sitting in them looking rather bored as they waited for Miraz and his wife to make an appearance).

One of the oak-wood, side-doors opened and they all looked over at it, pleased for the distraction until they saw that it was only Prince Caspian and his Narnian foundling. Most of them either had distain for Narnians or else simple, rather harmless, apathy for all things from Narnia, so they didn't take any note of her. They didn't know why their prince was so fascinated with another country-so unlike the one that was theirs-and hoped he would get over it soon. At least the foundling didn't cause any trouble-they'd never actually heard her say anything and the official story was that she was a mute-so they didn't bother themselves about that, either.

"Uncle Miraz?" Caspian said, surprised that his uncle hadn't arrived yet.

"Fashionably late as usual, your highness." yawned the lord closest to the door.

Caspian nodded. "Of course you all know Susan?"

There were a few muttered greetings and a short look in her direction-she was quite beautiful after all, even to them-and then they went back to tapping their fingers and waiting irritably.

Finally, another door opened and King Miraz and Queen Prunaprismia entered. They saw Caspian and seemed rather indifferent to their nephew's presence-as if they were just waiting for him to disappear into thin air one day-until they noticed the lady standing beside him.

She was dressed in Telmarine finery that would have made any courtier proud and she wore jewels enough, too, but they could tell in only a glance that she was not actually Telmarine. Her skin was a porcelain white to their slightly darker olive completions and the shape of her face and eyes were different also.

"Who is that?" Prunaprismia asked, wondering why the lady did not speak up and introduce herself. Didn't she know the proper way to greet royalty? Or perhaps she thought herself above that because the prince himself had brought her here?

Caspian smiled warmly at his Narnian lady friend. "This is Susan, she comes from Narnia."

Miraz rolled his eyes and let out a slight huff of disapproval, muttering, "Narnia indeed!" under his breath.

"I believe she is of noble blood." Caspian added for good measure, knowing his family was not fond of their own land's peasants, never mind another's.

Diplomatically, Prunaprismia asked Susan if she was enjoying her stay in Telmar.

Susan blinked, unsure of what to do. She could nod or shake her head but she wouldn't be able to explain herself to this queen and either motion would require her to say something following it.

"Oh," Caspian jumped in quickly as if he'd almost forgotten. "I don't think she can speak; I'm trying to teach her how."

Miraz's eyes narrowed. "I see."

Susan could already tell she wasn't going to like Miraz, or even Prunaprismia for that matter, they seemed too placid, too fake, too Jadis-like. Alright, maybe that was a little harsh, they weren't quite _that_ awful; but Susan still found some traces of unfeeling resemblance in a couple of looks she caught from them-and she didn't like it. She knew that she didn't trust them.

Miles away, two white swans who had once been humans-royal brothers-and still wore a crown of gold and a cap of silver on their heads, flew about in the air looking for their lost sister who was not a swan. As for the little one who _was_ a swan, she was on a lake near Aslan's camp, waiting in case her sister came back there on her own.

The smaller of the two male, once-human swans suddenly stretched his neck towards the bigger one and said, "Peter, are you sure Lucy will be all right? Maybe we ought to have taken her with us."

The bigger swan with the golden crown on his head looked indignantly at his brother. "And have her get lost out here while we're looking for Susan? No, she's safer there."

Edmund didn't say it but he couldn't help thinking to himself that they had thought the same thing about Susan when they'd last left her.

Perhaps Peter could read his brother's mind because he added, "The centaurs are under orders to keep a sharp eye on her, Ed."

"We aren't going to find her today, are we?"

"Don't say that."

"But it's been nearly three weeks." The Edmund-swan pointed out, flapping his wings just a little harder for emphasis.

"I know." The swan that had been Peter moaned, arching his neck slightly. "Don't you think I know that?"

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."


	12. The engagement

_I will not speak._

_No one can convince me._

_No one can frighten me._

_No one can coax me._

_A vow of silence is all that remains on my tongue._

_My throat is drier than dust and cannot be quenched._

_There is no laughter in me._

_I see the way the courtiers look at me when I am knitting._

_Some shiver and seem to be muttering a prayer under their breath;_

_they must suspect I am something unholy or else have been cursed by some vile being they don't want coming after them next._

_I despise them for this._

_What right do they have to judge?_

_They do not know me._

_What harm have I ever done to them?_

_Is the fact that I do not speak or laugh really cause for such deep alarm?_

_Don't any of these people have real problems to deal with in life?_

_Maybe they don't, or if they do, they would rather ignore them and focus on me._

_The ones who don't hate me, seem to admire me although I do find their never-ending gazes a little unnerving at times._

_The castle children come in two kinds: very friendly and very shy._

_The shy ones peer at me curiously from behind pillars and I decide I like them because they are quiet-just like me-even if they aren't under a vow of silence._

_On the other hand, I enjoy the company of the friendly ones, too because they remind me of little Lucy-so kind, so eager to please, so amazed by anything that can glitter under the sun._

_They flock around me to ask what I am 'Sewing'._

_Knitting, I think, they mean, "What are you knitting?" Sewing is different._

_I notice Caspian watching me while I smile at the children and endure their questions until they grow tired or are distracted by a bright, shiny object and leave me._

_I cannot help wondering what he thinks of me._

_I think he likes me; he wouldn't waste so much time constantly trying to get me to speak to him if he didn't._

_He must not think I am insane or unholy, he wouldn't take someone like that into his home, would he?_

_What surprises me the most about him, is that I am beginning to realize that maybe he likes me for me and not just because I am Narnian._

_That he might just like my company._

_What ever it was that appealed to him about me at first, might not necessarily be what he sees in me now._

_I've been here in Telmar, in this castle, for over a month._

_By now, even though I never say a word, he can tell when I am upset or when I am-or am not-in the mood for joking._

_He can tell when I just want someone to sit by me with their mouth shut tight so I don't feel so left out and awkward._

_And he does so._

_He does like me._

_And I think, maybe-just maybe-I like him, too._

* * *

It was a warm day and Susan was sitting outside in the courtyard in the cool shadow of one of the low stone, ivy-covered walls that led to one of the gardens. Of course, she was knitting. She was actually feeling quite pleased with herself because at long last, after all her efforts and troubles, all her tears and toil, she had completed a sleeve for one of the shirts.

This would be the largest shirt she would have to make-this one would be for Peter-so she was making it first, both because she wanted the hardest one over with, and because all her life she had been told that crown princes, first borns, had rights. And one of them, she assumed, would be the right to be the first released from enchantments. In a way, she felt a little guilty; part of her wanted to make Ed's shirt first-she felt so sorry for him. He hadn't _meant_ to betray them, it had just sort of _happened_. But then she though of the fact that Peter and Lucy had been near-saints in all of this and Edmund himself would have wanted her to make their shirts first anyway.

A little ways in the distance, Caspian had been practicing his fencing with the son of a wealthy Telmarine lord who also lived at the castle as a consul-man. Susan didn't care much for watching sword-fights; she never had, actually. Not even when her brothers used to practice did she pay the sport any mind. In all honesty, she had been utterly shocked when Lucy-who had been very, very small at the time-suddenly took a liking to watching Peter and Edmund practice. Sometimes Susan would sit and watch them anyway, but only for Lucy's benefit. As it was, she had no interest in watching Caspian swing his sword around (now, if it had been archery, a sport she had always liked and excelled in, she would have been more much more keen on it) so she kept her head down and carefully worked at her knitting. It was probably a good thing that she didn't find much worth distracting herself from her work for the clews of yarn continued to be tough to manage and she had to put most-sometimes all-of her focus on it.

So hard was she focusing and straining over the sleeve she was struggling to add on to, that she didn't hear the sound of the swords being slid back into their sheaths and practice being over for the day. She didn't notice the mild crunching sound of Caspian's boots striking the stone-paved ground away from the grassy-spots, walking over to where she was sitting.

A slight shadow that was not from the wall-it extended in a taller, slimmer, less block-like sort of fashion-fell over Susan and at last she looked up, managing a friendly smile, as that was all she had left to give these days.

Caspian sighed and sat down beside her with a slight groan; he must have been a little sore from the fencing. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Susan stopped knitting and glanced over at him, blinking sympathetically. He clearly was not in the best of moods right now and needed someone to listen to him. One good thing about having a friend that didn't speak, he had soon realized, was that they listened very well.

"My uncle is driving me crazy." Caspian grunted; he leaned his head back against the wall and rose his voice in an only slightly-exaggerated imitation of Miraz's. "Caspian, study this. Caspian, go here. Caspian, do that. Caspian, go practice your fencing right now, I don't care if you're tired because I made you attend that stupid five-hour tournament the other day."

Susan nodded; she didn't like his uncle, either. Not only was he a tyrant, always passing unnecessarily harsh laws-that Caspian could do nothing about and so he'd whine to Susan about them later, knowing she wouldn't tell anyone-but he was also unbearably bossy.

"And now, get this," Caspian said, a trace of bitter-laughter in his tone, as he moved his head to look directly at her. "Uncle Miraz is making me attend some long-winded meeting about," He paused for a moment to give a little shudder before going on. "My 'future'."

Maybe the old goat is finally going to retire and let you have your throne, Susan thought-as unlikely as it seemed.

"You know what?" Caspian said, in a sadder voice now. "I don't even think he likes me, not even a little bit. My aunt doesn't seem to, either. Not really."

You don't need their approval, Susan thought-feeling rather cross at Miraz and Prunaprismia for being so hard on him. What wrong had he ever done to deserve such demanding behavior from them?

"And I can't complain because I always have to hear about how he 'brought me up by hand'." Caspian sighed, smiling faintly-very unhappily.

If Susan could have spoken to him, she would have said, "My little sister, Lucy, always used to say that people who say 'brought up by hand' are only looking for an excuse to control a person they haven't got any real right to control." But she couldn't, so she didn't.

"I am so lucky I've got my professor." Caspian said thoughtfully, his smile widened as he gazed into Susan's eyes for a moment. "And of course, I have you, Susan."

She felt herself blush and felt horribly annoyed that, because she couldn't speak, there was no chance of explaining it away. She _was_ blushing, and he certainly knew it. One would have thought being speechless would make it _easier_ to keep your emotions hidden, not harder.

"At least I know you're my on my side."

How do you know that? Susan wondered-raising an eyebrow at him curiously, I've never said a word to you, for all you know, I could be plotting against your throne; I'm not but I _could_ be for all you know about it.

"It's alright that you don't speak." Caspian smiled warmly, seeming to read her mind this time. "I still know you. You're the sweetest, kindest maiden in all of Telmar."

Oh that's just great, Susan thought grumpily, why did you have to say something like that? Now my whole face is surely a frightfully bright scarlet!

"And besides," He said, gently reaching over and patting one of her hands. "I'm not giving up on you, neither is Doctor Cornelius, I'm sure between the two of us, we'll find a way to teach you to speak. Wont that be nice, Susan?"

Thinking about sliding her hand away from his, but not actually doing it, Susan knew how very wrong he was. If she spoke, it wouldn't be 'nice' at all; speaking meant failing. Failing meant everlasting enchantment and her younger brother's death.

"Prince Caspian!" A servant from inside the castle called out a window for him. "Your meeting, your highness!"

"I'll come when I'm good and ready." Caspian grumbled back loudly.

"What was that?" A voice that sounded like Miraz's barked.

Caspian sighed and stood up. "Now I'm good and ready."

Susan sighed, too.

"See you later." He told her, dashing back into the castle before his uncle had a conniption fit.

The meeting was all about the future of Telmar even though Miraz didn't seem in any hurry to actually bother passing the throne to his nephew just yet.

Then why do I have to listen to this? Caspian thought-suddenly having the childish urge to pick up a quill, dip it in ink, and doodle on the back of his hand until the meeting was over.

He snapped back into attention when Prunaprismia, who was also present at the meeting, said something about getting him married off to a Telmarine count's daughter she knew very well.

Caspian was nothing short of appalled. He knew that count's daughter and he couldn't stand her. She was annoying, had dozens of bad habits, and he thought her teeth looked absurdly large and rabbit-like. The thought of being married to such a woman made him want to scream. Yes, beauty wasn't everything, companionship was very important, too, but it wasn't as if the count's ugly daughter had ever had anything interesting to say. In fact, the only time he could remember her saying anything even remotely amusing was when she was complaining about the dinner menu at a banquet once. And even then, he had only thought her idiotic prattle funny because he had been overly tired at the time and was struggling not to fall asleep at the table.

"I wont marry _her_." Caspian insisted, standing up and looking his aunt and uncle right in the eye, his nose twisting upwards with disgust.

"And why not?" Miraz demanded, angry that his wife's option and hope had been so quickly brushed off by that ungrateful nephew of theirs.

"Well for one thing, she squints and has freckles." Caspian said, only half-joking even if one of the Telmarine lords did have to excuse himself 'to get a drink of water' so he could laugh freely.

"And who, pray tell," Huffed Prunaprismia, scowling at him. " _are_ you going to wed? You are a grown-man now, you must marry _someone_."

" _Someone_ , yes, but not _her_." Caspian was quick to counter. Thoughtlessly, he added, "I'd sooner marry Susan of Narnia."

"Well I'm open to any better suggestions." Miraz grumbled, rubbing his forehead, suddenly feeling a bit of a headache coming on.

It was that that moment, looking into the blank, bored, faces of the Telmarine lords and King Miraz and the insulted expression on his aunt's face, that Caspian realized something. Before when he'd had to put up with things like this-almost being forced into marriage with someone he didn't love-he had never had someone else in mind. Only getting himself out relatively unscathed. Now though, it was different. He did love someone, even if he hadn't known it until that exact moment. He, Caspian, prince of Telmar, was in love with his Narnian foundling; the beautiful girl who never spoke. Susan understood him better than anyone ever had, she didn't need to say anything to show that. She was good of heart and thoughtful. Not to mention much, much better-looking than the count's daughter was. He knew now that he wanted more than friendship from his lovely Narnian companion. What he really wanted-truly longed for-was to make her his bride, his wife. That is, if she'd have him.

"I'm open to any better suggestions." Miraz repeated slowly as if his nephew was mentally inferior to himself.

Caspian's smile widened. "I just told you, uncle."

There was a slight murmuring among the lords at this; clearly they were a little confused.

"I'd sooner marry Susan of Narnia."

There was a great fuss about this, of course. What sort of wife would a foreign woman who never spoke make? How did they know they could trust her? Didn't anyone else feel a little uneasy when she looked in their direction? They pleaded with Caspian to reconsider, but he was adamant. If Susan of Narnia would agree to marry him, then she was the only one he would take for a bride.

In another part of the castle, Susan sat alone in one of the little sitting-rooms branching off from her bed chamber. Her knitting was in her lap, though at the moment she wasn't attending to it. She was looking over at the picture on the opposite wall-it was a painting of swan. No doubt, it made her think of her three beloved siblings and wonder how they were getting along without her so that tears sprang up into her eyes.

A few moments later, one of the crueler ladies-in-waiting muttered a Narnian slur as she passed by her, carrying some freshly clean bed-linens.

At this, unable to stand it any longer, Susan thrust her face into her hands and began to weep heavily. She hated Telmar, she _hated_ it! Why did he have to bring her here? This wasn't her place. She belonged back in Narnia with her family; there was nothing for her here.

The sitting room door creaked open and Caspian, unnoticed by Susan who was weeping so hard at this point that she would have been unlikely to hear a parade of elephants storming by, walked in. As soon as he saw her crying so piteously, his heart broke and he rushed over to her.

Kneeling down by her chair, he whispered, "Don't cry, sweet, nothing is so horrible, is it?"

Susan moved one of her fingers slightly so that she could see his face looking up at her. What was he going on about? Her crying? Well, he'd seen her cry before so what was the big deal now?

Feeling rather stupid as her pride rushed back into her, realizing the lovely spectacle she was making of herself, she quickly uncovered her face and placed her hands in her lap near her knitting.

Caspian took one of her hands in his. "Was someone unkind to you, dear?"

 _Why is he talking like that?_ Susan nodded and shrugged. Yes, someone had been unkind; no, it wasn't the end of the world, it didn't really matter. She was just very lonely, missing the siblings he didn't even know she had.

"No, I understand, I see that look." Caspian said gently, stroking her hand reassuringly. "But no one has a right to mistreat you, Susan, you're the most wonderful person..." His voice trailed off at this.

Susan blinked twice, her forehead crinkling slightly.

He laughed to himself a little. "I'm really not starting off well, am I?"

Susan might have laughed a little herself if it hadn't been for the vow of silence, but she did manage a warm smile which she was becoming quite well-known for as far as he was concerned.

"Susan, what I'm trying to do is propose." He blurted out finally, knowing if he didn't say it at once, he'd never manage to get the right words out. "Will you marry me?"

For a second, she thought she must have been dreaming but then when she looked down at his facial expression, waiting for an answer, a mix of hopefulness and worry that she might not accept his proposal, she was well-aware that it was real.

The question was, did she love him? She thought of how annoyed she was when he hovered over her and when he had taken her away from that tree back in Narnia-and she didn't feel very fond of him. But then she thought of his over-all well-meaning nature and the times they'd sat together and how intently he'd struggled to teach her to speak-and she felt differently. She knew him; he'd told her of all his hopes and dreams and she'd listened. She cared for him. And now, she knew, glancing down at his hand still gently wrapped around her own, that she _did_ love him after all.

Part of her wanted to wait a while but that wasn't an option. If she shook her head no, he would assume she didn't love him and didn't ever want to marry him-he'd probably then go off and have to marry someone else. There was no way of asking him if he didn't mind waiting a while. Still, she was old enough to be married now, sad though it would be that none of her family would get to see it. If she didn't nod yes, she'd never marry him. She would lose the man she loved.

Slowly, but intensely, she nodded yes.

And just like that, they were engaged to be married.


	13. More vows

_I will not speak._

_No one can make me._

_The ladies-in-waiting seem to be trying to force me into speaking by simply ignoring me when I point to things._

_So I have two different ways of dealing with that._

_I try to go without what I need._

_Or I get it myself._

_"You shouldn't so such disrespect for her Narnian ladyship," I over-hear an older, more shrewd, lady-in-waiting whisper to a younger, wilder-natured, one. "She's going to be our princess very soon and if the prince only knew how you and the others sometimes-"_

_The young lady-in-waiting tosses back her head in pure contempt. "Ha! What is she going to do? Cry to the prince? She'll never find the words, she's just a stupid coward."_

_It's official, I hate my ladies-in-waiting._

_I decide that I will fire them after the two and a half years are over._

_Actually, I probably wont, but it feels good to imagine myself doing so-especially when they act like this._

_At first, it seems easier to just focus on the wedding plans and nod when I agree-shake my head when I don't._

_Seems easy enough, safe enough._

_Doesn't last._

_Can't last._

_Soon they want me to speak up, too._

_For a lot of it, though, Caspian talks for me and it mostly seems to work out._

_No one will say anything rude in front of him._

_Even the ladies-in-waiting act like perfect angels when they hear him coming:_

_"Oh, you are so beautiful, princess...oh, Prince Caspian! We didn't hear you come in."_

_Liar._

_At the wedding itself, however, there is a bigger problem._

_The archbishop is waiting for me to say my vows or at least, "I do."_

_Nodding is not enough for him, either, apparently._

_No one wants a mute princess._

_A mute princess married to a crown prince means a mute queen eventually, and who wants that?_

_What am I going to do?_

_I don't know._

_All I know is, even now, I will not speak._

* * *

The archbishop was a large man, but he was not short and stout the way many large men tend to be, rather he had a very tall-though not at all slim-waist and a long, thick neck with a fleshy-looking Adam's apple dead in its center that stuck out when he was irritated. And he was certainly irritated now as he glowered over the soon-to-be princess of Telmar dressed in her silky-white wedding finery.

The young prince's bride was indeed very beautiful and gracious-looking (fair of face and dark of hair), all was in order as far as that went, but the fact that she would not speak was getting frustrating for him. She would not say anything; making figuring out whether or not the wedding was actually valid very difficult. She smiled at the prince, her soon-to-be husband, and held his hand in a way that showed very clearly she wasn't being forced into a marriage against her will-not that the archbishop cared about _that_ -but not one little squeak of a vow would die on her lips.

The archbishop had never liked Caspian very much-he was one of those who turned a blind eye to any tyranny on Miraz's part and supported the supposed 'good' he was doing-and now that he had chosen a mute little _Narnian_ for his wife, he liked the crown prince even less. And as little as he liked Caspian, his over-all distain for him was nothing compared to his instant hatred of Susan.

As to Susan herself, she didn't like the archbishop, either. She thought he was a pompous git and saw no use for him. They didn't have any sort of bishops in Narnia-they didn't even have priests in their royal court-and yet people managed to get through life just fine; they still had their weddings and coronations and funerals and last rites without any problems. Rather than let his stern face upset or intimidate her, however, Susan used the last of her courage for that day to stare right back at him-she couldn't speak with her lips but she could accuse with her eyes. She could tell he was not a supporter of her almost-husband.

Out of no reason but pure spite, when the first part of the ceremony was over-by some miracle Susan had managed to get through it even though she still did not speak-the archbishop, glancing at Miraz who seemed to flinch just slightly in an approving sort of fashion, pressed the golden circlet that was customary for Telmarine princesses down on Susan's head so hard that it made it ache and, in one spot, even cut into the skin and bled a couple of drops. She blinked back any involuntarily tears not wanting the stupid archbishop to think either that he had said something in his idiotic prattle of a 'holy speech' that had moved her or else that his cruelty was effecting her mood on her wedding day.

Caspian hadn't seen what the horrid archbishop had done because he'd been looking the other way briefly and when he looked back Susan had gotten herself together and was wearing a calm smile, but someone else did. Doctor Cornelius was given permission to sit with the royal family in the front pews because he was a royal educator of their crown prince. Sensing something very amiss, he had fixed his eyes very intently on poor Susan of Narnia as if that might somehow protect her, only to see how hard the ring of gold was pushed down onto her. He bared his teeth at the archbishop very quickly-stopping before anyone noticed and started rumors about Narnians hating holy men-but the wicked man saw and smirked down at the professor smugly because he knew the old half-dwarf could do nothing about it.

Catching a glimpse of the look on the half-dwarf's face, Susan suddenly felt very much as if he understood even if he did not know about her family's unfortunate curse and the fact that he was one of her own subjects from the days when she was a princess because she was a king's daughter and not because she was a prince's bride. One little glittering tear fell from her left eye and rolled down her cheek, the light that fell from the window closest to her making it look like a small diamond sliding down her face.

Thankfully the wedding was soon over, and after the feast and dancing that was of course arranged for such a grand occasion, the bride and groom could retire to their chambers (Susan was awfully glad to have the circlet off of her head for a few hours so that the borderline-wound that the archbishop had inflicted on her had a chance to breathe and perhaps heal).

At the same evening hour, in Narnia, a large swan with a golden crown on his head flew into his family's pavilion, the sun set, and he turned into his true human form-Peter, the should-be high king of the Narnians.

He caught nothing but a fleeting glimpse of two other royal swans a bit smaller than himself before they, too, turned into their human forms-his younger brother and his youngest sister.

Lucy smiled at him faintly as she had never been one to give up hope. She knew where he had been all day-what he did every single day, sometimes with Edmund, sometimes by himself. "Anything?"

"What luck?" Edmund added, though he felt quite certain both because of how much time had elapsed and because of the broken look on Peter's face that he hadn't heard or seen anything. "Any news?"

"Nothing." Peter sighed, groaning slightly as he sat down on one of the pavilion's many cushions and reclined to a light supper. He probably should have eaten more considering how much flying he did every day as he traveled through the air searching for his lost sister but he didn't seem to have much appetite these days. Whether it was because of the constant change from swan stomach to human stomach or else due to his sadness over returning to Aslan's camp each day with no word from or about Susan, he wasn't sure.

"How far did you get?" Edmund wanted to know.

"I flew very fast and far today, Edmund." Peter told him gravely. "I almost made it to the borders of that country called Telmar."

"It's like she's vanished into thin air." Lucy said softly, shaking her head and playing with her fingers while she spoke.

"I don't know where to look next." Peter admitted, lowering his eyes, unable to look directly at his siblings when he said this.

"Oh, Peter, it will be alright." Lucy grabbed onto his hand comfortingly and gave it a light squeeze. "You'll see." She paused for a moment before adding, "And we do know _one_ thing about Susan, where ever she is."

"And what is that one thing we know?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow slightly with faint surprise.

"That she's keeping her vow." Lucy told him, motioning over at Edmund. "She isn't speaking. We know that because Edmund isn't dead."

"Whole lot of good _that_ does us." Peter grumbled.

Edmund's brows sank into his forehead. "Nice, Pete, real nice."

"No, I didn't mean it that way." Peter chuckled slightly, realizing what he had seemingly implied. "I only meant it doesn't help us much as far as locating her is concerned."

Lucy let go of Peter's hand and threw her arms about Edmund's neck, embracing him. "You know we love you, Ed."

"Get off me." Edmund said with pretend sharpness.

Just to be difficult, Peter hugged him from the other side. "Isn't this nice?"

"Both of you have gone completely batty!" Edmund exclaimed, squirming out of his eldest and youngest siblings' grips.

"This is almost like old times, isn't it?" Peter realized with a sad whisper. "Except, we're refugee swans in an army camp and Jadis has our throne. Oh, and Susan's not here with us."

"I miss her." Edmund stated the obvious. It was obvious because they all felt the same way.

"It doesn't seem like it was us, does it?" Lucy said glumly.

"What do you mean, Lu?" Peter asked her, not quite understanding what she meant.

"I mean, those old days...when we all used to play at Cair Paravel and race through marble hallways and write on golden slates and you used to tickle Susan when she got out of hand." Lucy's eyes shone brightly with little tears that she wasn't really holding back even though they didn't fall on their own accord. "Those days feel like they belonged to someone else, someone happier. Not us."

Edmund nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think I know what you mean."

"I'm still going to look for her every day." Peter vowed, his facial expression looking a little stronger now as he spoke these words. "If Susan had to have a bad fate because of all this, then so do I."

Lucy blinked at him. "What do you mean, Peter?"

"I mean that as long as she keeps her vow, I shall keep mine." Peter announced bravely. "Every day that she doesn't speak, I will be out there, looking for her-I don't care if it takes years and years."

Edmund shook his head. "Maybe it should be me. You know, this is all my fault."

"It doesn't matter, I'm the eldest." Peter reminded him. "The eldest has rights, but who says they're all pleasant ones?"

"But you're the crown prince."

"Exactly."

"But if something should happen-" He protested. "It's been a long time already and you have-"

"Then I guess Narnia would be in your hands then, wouldn't it?"

"Oh by the Lion," Edmund muttered to himself, so low that even Lucy who was sitting right beside him could not hear. "please don't let it come to that."

More time passed and though some days were better than others, for the most part, with her new husband and less time spent alone with her horrid ladies-in-waiting, Susan's life in Telmar was rather good. She avoided Caspian's aunt and uncle and of course the horrid archbishop when she could, and spent nearly all of her free time when she wasn't with Caspian working on the knitting. She was still struggling to finish Peter's shirt and sometimes the silver yarn was so difficult that she gave herself blisters just trying to force it into the right shape.

About a fortnight after her marriage to Caspian the tenth, Susan woke up feeling quite unwell as if there were guppies swimming around in the pits of her belly and had to leap out of bed and vomit in an empty washbasin. Her noise woke up her husband who blinked and glanced over at her, worried that his wife had suddenly taken ill.

"Susan, sweetheart, are you alright?" He asked, sitting up in the bed.

Suddenly Susan's face went quite white as her eyes locked with the calendar on the far-side of the room just a few feet away from the basin she was vomiting into. It was passed that time of month and it came to her mind now that she hadn't gotten her usual flow of blood-and now here she was vomiting...was it possible that she might be...?

She stared over at Caspian wide-eyed. It was a shame she had no way of telling him now but she figured that he'd figure it out soon enough-sooner or later, she would start showing and she wouldn't need words to explain once he saw for himself.


	14. A devastating loss

_I will not laugh._

_No joy is great enough to make me._

_No merriment is happy enough to inspire me._

_My eyes may shine with all the laughter they want but no noise will my throat make._

_I cannot even giggle for the results would be so devastating that I would have to weep afterwards, anyway._

_Now everyone can see what I knew quite a good while ago though I couldn't tell them:_

_I am with child._

_The courtiers are happy-or at least they pretend they are happy._

_Carrying on otherwise would be an insult to their crown prince and they do not wish to offend him._

_Prunaprismia looks at me with squinted eyes._

_I cannot help wondering if that is because for many years she has wanted a child and Miraz has been unable to do anything about it._

_And now, only after such a short time with my husband, I am carrying an heir in my womb._

_Miraz acts apathetic._

_I think he wants a son, too, but I am glad he hasn't got one._

_It would mean danger for my husband-and maybe for my unborn child as well._

_Unless, of course, it was to turn out to be female._

_I sort of have an idea that it's going to be a little boy, though._

_Because of how hard it kicks sometimes._

_The archbishop (how I loathe that man) gives me such hard looks, as if being pregnant is a sin._

_I would hate to see the way he would look at a woman who actually wasn't married and had her baby out of wedlock._

_How I pity that poor hypothetical girl!_

_The months are going by so quickly now-it wont be much longer until my child is here with me._

_And I have another reason to be happy-though a more somber sort of happiness-I have almost finished Peter's shirt._

* * *

Susan was exactly nine months pregnant when she finished the first shirt made of the silver yarn. It was a simple design but it shone so brightly-like a silver apple of the tree of life-that it appeared a thousand times prettier than it actually was. Although she had worked with the yarn all this time and thought she had grown very used to seeing its brilliance, Susan could not help being amazed when she held up the first fruit of her labor and took a good look at it. And the looks of the shirt was only the start of its many wonders; for it was as strong as chain-mail but as soft as the wing of a swan or the hide of a young white doe.

While she was admiring the shirt-unable to fully believe that her own fingers had created such a thing-Caspian came into the chamber and smiled at her.

"So that is what you have been knitting all this time." He realized, taking in its vivid brightness and wondering what on earth his wife had been making the shirt for. It was much too big for herself and common sense-remembering that she had started before they'd even met-told him that she hadn't slaved away all this time to make a silver shirt for _him_.

Oh, thought Susan-glancing over at her husband sorrowfully, if I only could just tell him about my siblings and my curse, how clear it would all become! He seems so confused.

She didn't have much longer to ponder over a way to explain the shirts without speaking because only a few moments later, a little strangled-sounding gasp escaped from her throat and her hands went to her belly; the baby was coming. How dreadfully it hurt! What Susan wouldn't have given to be permitted to scream out. Screaming wasn't exactly speaking, so as long as she didn't say any words in her cries, surely her siblings would not be harmed-Edmund would not die. Still, the scream would prove what she was afraid a few of the castle people might already secretly suspect, that she did, in fact, have a voice and was not truly mute. And then, what would she do about the whole 'not speaking' rule? Because of this, no matter how massive the birth pains got, she did not cry out. Rather, the castle was filled with long moans and groans that might have come during any creature giving birth to its baby.

"The dumb thing doesn't even scream when she goes into labor." Prunaprismia whispered to her husband in a rather nasty, spiteful tone, still upset that a Narnian nobody so much younger than she was, could pass on life though childbirth while she, the wife of the great King Miraz, could not. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she wasn't even human."

"Well she's _Narnian_." Miraz answered coldly. "Can't expect much from those white-as-snow barbarians, can we?"

"I don't think expecting the wench to give birth like a proper woman of her rank-or at least of her species-is asking too much." Prunaprismia said, tossing her head back haughtily.

"Worry not, my lovely queen, for soon we shall be rid of her and we can find him someone else-get Telmar a proper princess just like we planned." Miraz reminded her in a low voice. "For the well-being of Telmar-and our plan to save it from this cursed dumbling-let us pray that the baby is born in perfect health."

Though it certainly had very little to do with the prayers and wishes of the two cold-hearted, scheming Telmarine monarchs, the baby was indeed born in perfect health. He-for the baby was in fact male as Susan had rightly assumed-was a small white little wisp of a thing, taking more after his mother than his father, but with soft rosy-pink cheeks that were not even slightly yellowed with any trace of illness and his eyes were clear and bright not glanced or unfocused in the least. The little bit of hair he had on his head (and he didn't have very _much_ of it) was as black as an old frying pan.

"He's beautiful." Caspian said, completely awestruck as he looked down at the sweet little bundle in his wife's tired arms.

He's more than that, thought Susan as she smiled down at the baby-being the proud mother that she was, he's _perfect_.

"He looks just like you, Susan." Caspian beamed down at his wife and son with deep admiration.

Yes, he does look like me, Susan said in her mind, and he has my mother's hands, I know because I have them, too, but he does have your eyelashes, he sure as anything didn't get _those_ from me.

Of course, Caspian had no idea what she was really saying in her mind and heart, but he could tell from her lovely smile that she was completely delighted over the birth of the little boy and so he let that be enough.

The major problem was what to name him. In both Narnia and Telmar it was for the most part considered the right of the mother to name a child, especially a first, or else a seventh, child but how could the princess Susan give her little boy a name when she couldn't speak or write down any name other than her own? At first, she had contented herself with the thought that Caspian would pick out a good name and all would be well but as she cuddled her dear little baby and thought about what she wanted to call him, she began to feel sorrowful and even a little desperate. She wanted to name him after her father, the late King Frank, for she had gotten to thinking about how her sweet little son reminded her a little bit of Edmund when he was born and how, in quite a few respects, Edmund took after their father-and how much she missed Frank and wanted to pass on his name-sake.

Just when she had given up hope and thought she would surely end up with her child simply being called, 'Caspian the eleventh' or something like that, Doctor Cornelius came in to see his student's first born son and as soon as he saw him, he asked what they were going to call the dear little baby.

Caspian shrugged. "It should be Susan's choice but as we've still had no luck in teaching her to speak..." He shook his head wearily. "...you don't think some...I don't know...troll or something...would come and take away an unnamed child, do you?"

Although she thought the superstition to be all stuff and nonsense, Susan still tightened her arms around the baby just in case. Nothing-real or fake-was going to come and take her child away! Not after all the trouble she'd had giving birth to him, they weren't. She'd like to see some hypothetical kidnapper go through five hours of labor without screaming bloody murder and see how well they'd take the thought of losing their baby after that!

"Might I make a suggestion?" Doctor Cornelius inquired, smiling at the prince and his new family.

"By all means." said Caspian.

Susan felt a little relieved; Caspian's professor was Narnian so at least, the baby might have a Narnian name after all as she couldn't imagine a half-dwarf suggesting a Telmarine sort of name for a half-Narnian child.

"Because her royal highness," He nodded at Susan when he said this. "is in fact a Narnian, I was wondering if the princess wouldn't like for the boy to be named after her native country's late monarch. Narnia is going through such troublesome times now and everyone remembers how good the last king-"

At this, Susan's eyes filled with tears of joy and she sat up straighter in the bed, motioned for the half-dwarf to come closer, and kissed his cheek.

"I believe your suggestion is received with a moderate amount of approval." Caspian joked mildly, turning again to grin back at his wife and child though he was speaking to his tutor.

And because of that, the first child of Princess Susan of Narnia who was also the princess of Telmar, was named after a cabby turned king who had been known to all as, 'King Frank'. After which there proceeded to be many great banquets and festivities over the baby because the crown prince having an heir, a first born boy, is no small matter in any kingdom that has ever been heard of in any world.

Of course, Susan herself was feeling very worn-out from giving birth so she sat a lot of these great events out, resting up in her chamber room, too exhausted for the first couple of days or so even to begin work on the next of the silver shirts-which would be the smallest one because it was for Lucy-and could do little else but sleep the hours away until her strength returned to her.

On one of these days, when Caspian was away attending some grand ceremony of congratulations being held in a smaller castle belonging to a Telmarine earl who had beseeched them to accept his hospitalities and Susan was soundly asleep in her bed mere inches away from where little baby Frank's canopy-draped cradle was located, a hooded figure with slim-looking, olive-coloured, hands quietly stole into the chamber.

The figure was none other than Queen Prunaprismia herself wearing a dark, velvet cloak taking care not to make even the slightest noise as she bent over the cradle and gingerly lifted the baby out of it. She peered back nervously as the mute mother as if a little worried that Susan would awaken and see her, but composed herself and tightened her grip on her nephew's little son's bundled up body when she saw that the princess did nothing but let out a faint moan in her sleep and roll over. All was going according to plan.

For a short moment, Prunaprismia felt a twinge of guilt knowing that stealing babies away from their mother was no small matter. Then though, she fought those feelings back; if she wanted to get rid of Susan, the baby must go first. Besides, if Susan herself was unfit as a Telmarine ruler who was to say the child that shared half of her genes and traits would not be unfit as well? What did a young, dumb wench like Susan need a baby for anyway? After all, her life would be ended soon and wasn't it a much greater evil to let the child live and be motherless all his life? Miraz would dispose of him, then of Susan later on, and soon all of this would be quickly forgotten. A new bride would be found for Caspian-one clever of tongue and of a well-known back ground. No one would remember the Princess Susan for anything good, worth-while, or virtuous; she and Miraz would see to that very soon.

For now though, Prunaprismia thought, I must follow the plan and take the child to my husband for him to dispose of and then quickly come back here and complete this part of my task.

And so she did; hiding poor small, helpless, son of a prince, Frank away until Miraz was ready to deal with him and then rushing back-just as quietly as before-into her nephew's bedchamber. This time, she carried a small bowl of a thick red liquid in her hands, blood that had perhaps belonged to a goat that was being killed for a castle-meal. Hovering over Susan's sleeping figure, the queen, no longer feeling any empathy or being bothered by her conscience at all by this point, dipped her fingers in the blood and gently wiped a small line of it across Susan's mouth in a messy zigzag. She dipped her fingers into it again and drew another line with it across the edge of Susan's upper lip.

After she had finished, Prunaprismia promptly left the chamber and hid the bowl of blood far away in the depths of the servants' kitchen when no one was looking so that the evidence would not be found and linked to her scheme.

A couple of hours later, Susan woke up feeling very uncomfortable. There was something on her mouth and it was sticky and sort of crusted on her lips making them tingle very awkwardly. Without thinking or bothering to look in a mirror, she stood up and stumbled over to a wash basin and cleaned off her face. When she had finished doing so and dapped it dry with a towel, feeling much better, she turned to look down at her baby, surprised that he hadn't heard her get up and started crying for her to hold him as he usually did. Poor Susan's eyes widened with complete horror and terror that only a mother who loses a child can ever fully know and understand as she caught sight of the empty cradle.

She had been crying over the cradle-and had, of course, searched around to see if by some chance her baby was somewhere else in the room though it seemed unlikely-when Caspian walked in and saw his wife in her broken-but silent-lament.

When he, too, saw that their child was gone he raced over to her side and put his arm around her and asked, "Susan, what happened? Where's Frank?"

Susan just cried harder, burying her face into her husband's neck and throwing her arms around him, because she had no way of telling him that she didn't know.


	15. Hole in the ground

_I have lost my child, and still, I do not speak._

_I must not speak._

_There is only one thing I can do._

_I work harder than ever before at my knitting._

_I must finish my siblings' shirts, I must!_

_All of this, I have suffered in silence, for their sake._

_My baby is gone and I cannot even explain that what I think may have happened._

_That he must have been taken when I was asleep._

_By whom?_

_Well, I don't know-don't exactly know-but I think I can guess._

_Prunaprismia never wanted me to have this baby._

_What other members of the royal court would have been able to gain access to the wing that my husband and I have our bedchamber in?_

_Not many._

_Perhaps Doctor Cornelius, but I know he could not have stolen the dear sweet child any more than he could have cut off his own right hand._

_But I cannot tell Caspian of my suspicious, nor can I grab Prunaprismia and demand she tell me the truth-if she knows where my baby is._

_I can do nothing without speaking._

_I can only cry and cry and still feel no relief._

_There is pain in me that no amount of tears can comfort._

_What I need is to scream._

_Just scream and scream long and loud until all of my pain is released._

_But how can I?_

_Though I can tell that Caspian wants to comfort me, he seems to only become more distant, I do not protest because I know he is hurting, too._

_One day, he opens the door of the room and sees me with blank, lifeless eyes, looking at the unmoved cradle still empty-the turned back ruffled sheets, never straightened out._

_I look up for only a moment._

_Our eyes meet and he shakes his head sadly, closes the doors again without saying a single word to me, and walks away to another part of the castle._

_An hour later, I again feel the urge to scream._

_I cannot hold back any longer._

_So I rush out into the garden-the one I can see from our bedchamber window._

* * *

The garden was empty, there wasn't even an under-gardener in sight, as Susan flung herself down onto the softest bed of soil she could find. There were no plants or flowers or even seeds planted in this patch as of yet, so it was nothing but pure, rich, moist, earth that Susan's hands plunged into and began to over-turn faster and faster. The black soil stuck under her fingernails and stayed there but she paid this no mind, she didn't even think of bothering to get a small shovel or spade. This hole she was digging didn't need one, not really. The only seeds she was going to drop into it were the seeds of her anguish, her long-withheld screams. In one swift motion, after her hands gave way and stopped digging of their own accord, she lowered her face into the hole and screamed into the earth. Long wordless hollers flew out of her throat, heard only by whatever sort of small crawling creatures were living underground in that garden. But no one else heard her and when she was quite horse, she pulled her face out of the ground and sat up.

Presently, still sitting by her 'screaming hole', she turned around and looked in the direction of a large, bubbling, marble fountain. In it she saw three swans floating around, enjoying themselves, and her heart gave a great lurch; but they were not _her_ swans. These were not her siblings, they were not even _talking_ swans-only dumb, wild, crownless creatures. Still, there were three of them, and they were such beautiful birds that she could not help herself from going over to them to get a closer look. The smallest of the three, turned and looked at her; its eyes did not sparkle with even a hint of intelligence, but there was a glimmer of kindness in it as if reminding her that soon, though it felt like so very long, her torment would be over and she could speak again. She'd had her scream, now it was time to get back inside and work vigorously at knitting Lucy's shirt.

It came to Susan's mind suddenly that her hands ached from digging in the earth-soft as the soil had been-but it made no difference in her resolve. She would finish the shirts, _all_ of them, and then she would wait. Wait until she could speak again, wait until her husband could fully understand what she was going through, wait until she saw her siblings again, just wait. What other way was there? What other hope could she cling to? She didn't even know if her dear little Frank's life had been spared or if he, like the king he was named after, had been killed before his time.

Inside the castle, Caspian was resting in a sitting room branching off from the main bedchamber he shared with his wife. He wasn't sure where she was at the moment; he had peered into the room and she wasn't there. Well, perhaps she had just gone for a walk. The thought was a little bit of a relief as Susan hadn't really made much of an effort to leave the chamber since little Frank disappeared.

There was a little tap on the door before it swung open and his aunt entered. She was dressed in the most beautiful royal Telmarine clothing as usual although Caspian noticed the fabric was all in mourning colours as was customary for this sort of situation, with the heir to the throne being lost.

Prunaprismia sighed and sat down beside her nephew. "Where is your princess?"

Caspian shrugged his shoulders and turned to look over at her with a deep sigh of his own. "I don't know, Aunt."

"Your uncle and I are so sad for you both." Prunaprismia motioned down at her gown. "As you can see I've come to give my condolences."

Knowing that there were very few things that could genuinely move his aunt to any emotion towards him, reminded Caspian of how serious and horrid the whole thing was and he had to blink back a fresh round of tears. If only there was something he could do. "Thank you, Aunt."

"Miraz has sent out several search parties to find your son." She lied convincingly. "but as of yet, no one has heard anything back from them."

"It's like he just _vanished_." Caspian said wearily, reaching up to rub his forehead with his thumb. "He was there and then he...well, wasn't..."

"If only Susan herself could tell us what happened." Prunaprismia clicked her teeth thoughtfully as she spoke. "She was the only one in the chamber at the time so I'm sure she must know _something_."

Caspian hated to admit it but he hadn't really been attempting to teach Susan to speak lately; he should have been trying harder than ever in hopes that she would re-gain her speech and tell them what had happened and whether or not she had seen anything. The reason he had all but given up was because of that look on her face these past few days. So broken, so lost, so torn; she didn't want to have lessons, she wanted her son back, she wanted everything to be all right again. And as her husband, it pained him that there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't bring their son back, he could not bring the gift of speech back to her lips, his comfort was not enough and he was at a complete loss.

"Tell me again, Caspian, what did you see?" Prunaprismia had been more than a little disappointed that Caspian had not seen the blood she had put on Susan's mouth-the wench must have caught on and washed it off before he arrived-and hoped to find some other way to bring the charges against her.

"I came into the bedchamber and Susan was weeping and the cradle was empty." Caspian said simply in a rather innocent and slightly oblivious tone.

"I cannot imagine how anyone could have gotten in there to take the child in the first place." said Prunaprismia, raising an eyebrow. "Was the window open perhaps? Any signs of a break in? Broken stain-glass perhaps? I can't fathom-"

Caspian was already shaking his head. "No, Aunt, there wasn't any signs."

"Had any of the servants or ladies-in-waiting been to visit the princess?" She asked contemplatively, walking to the other side of the sitting room and glancing out the window where she caught sight of Princess Susan walking up the garden path, her hands, cheeks, and forehead stained and streaked with soil.

A hidden smile appeared on the Queen's face when Caspian was looking away, shaking his head again, this couldn't have been going any better if she had planned in. No, he had not seen the blood, but this, this unsightly, very suspicious appearance of his mute wife, he would see. Now her plan depended greatly on good timing. It would take no more than a few moments for Susan arrive in the room; she would have to start planting the doubt in her nephew's mind now.

"You don't think..." She crinkled her brow as if thinking very hard and her voice trailed off.

"Don't think what?" asked Caspian.

Prunaprismia turned to face him now. "Well, if Susan was the only one in the room...I mean, you don't think perhaps our dear princess wasn't...er... _ready_...to have a child, being so young and all that...and didn't want the little baby and-"

A slight scowl came to Caspian's face. He would not tolerate this sort of talk against his wife. His aunt was very stupid if she truly thought sweet, harmless, broken-hearted, gentle Susan had done something to her own baby. "She _loved_ him."

Blinking, Prunaprismia forced an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Caspian, it was a passing thought-a very stupid one-please forget I said anything. It was dreadfully stupid of me, I'm not quite myself today, promise you wont give my thoughtless words the time of day."

"It's alright." Caspian managed to smile back at her weakly. "I suppose this whole thing has been a great strain on all our nerves."

"Yes, and I do pity the princess...oh, is that her coming just now?" She widened her eyes with faux-surprise as the door slid open and Susan walked in the room, more than a little startled to see anyone else was there. She'd thought Caspian would be out and she'd never imagined Prunaprismia would be there in mourning clothes on a call of comfort.

What a state Susan was in a the moment, her clothes were dirty and her cheeks could not have looked any worse if she'd first dipped her hands into the soot from the fireplace and then scrubbed her face with it. The worse was her hands; not one inch of her normally lily-white fingers was left clean or unstained from the earthy soil.

As soon as he saw her-she did look so piteous-Caspian took her hands in his. "Sweet, where have you been?" Gently turning her wrist over so he could see whatever it was that was all over her hands, his forehead crinkled with deep confusion. "What's this all over your hands, Susan? Some sort of soil?"

"It seems as though she has been digging a little hole." Prunaprismia said semi-pointedly, shooting Susan a cold look with a trace of fake-concern in it.

Susan's eyes darkened with horror when she realized what Prunaprismia could very well be implying. 'Digging a _little_ hole...' After their baby had just gone 'missing' such a short time ago. Tightening her grip on Caspian's arms so that he looked her in the eyes, sensing that she was trying to tell him something, she shook her head.

I haven't done anything to our baby, she said in her mind-hoping her husband could understand somehow, I wouldn't, you know I wouldn't, you know I loved him, you know I love you, please trust me, I can't speak but you know, I _know_ you know that.

Caspian didn't really believe his wife had done anything-no matter how odd it was that she should have soil all over her hands-he was certain that if she could speak, she would justify herself and all would become perfectly clear. Looking at his aunt though, he doubted she had the same conviction. She didn't know Susan like he did and she had all those ideas about Susan not really being ready to be a mother or else not waiting to be one. How he wished that Susan could speak for herself so that there would never be such horrible misunderstandings as this!

Patting her nephew's shoulder, Prunaprismia whispered in a low voice. "Doesn't it pain you so greatly that she's dumb?"

Yes, Caspian thought ever so sadly, yes, it does, she must speak or else who knows what horrible ideas people might get about her. You yourself thought she was a child-killer for a moment there and she's your own niece-sort of. If anyone else ever thought...oh, I don't know what I am going to do about her!

But what had happened to baby Frank in all of this? Where exactly was he while Susan was screaming into her hole in the ground and Prunaprismia was trying to turn Caspian against her? What had happened was this: Miraz had taken the baby in hand and had rode off out of Telmar to the borders of a land he was not at all fond of which was called Narnia-lest the Telmarines have the blood-guilt of a royal-born child dying on their land. Once he was in a quiet, rather remote, little place with a deep, low-water well standing all alone with dark emerald-green moss growing all over its rough grey stones, Miraz picked up the helpless bundled-up baby and threw the infant down it. Satisfied that he had rid his country of an unwanted heir, the king sighed and felt deep relief in his wicked heart as he climbed back into his horse and calmly-but briskly-trotted back towards Telmar as thought nothing had happened.

However, Frank did not fall into the water and perish as Miraz had planed and expected, rather his thick blankets caught onto the edge of one of the stones that stuck out and were higher-up so that the water did not touch them and make them slippery. The baby, not understanding what was going on, wanted nothing more than for his mother to come and pick him up and comfort him-he hadn't liked that strange man who had taken him to this place. And so he howled and bawled and bellowed as only a truly distressed, lonely infant can until someone heard him and peered down the well.

Much to the baby's surprise, the someone did not seem to be a human person but some sort of small white-very pretty-bird with a long elegant neck, kind eyes, and a garland of white-gold on its head. If little Frank had ever seen a picture of a swan before, he would have probably known that was what the lovely white-feathered creature was but as he hadn't any idea about swans, he just blinked at the thing with deep confusion before breaking out into a fresh round of wails although with less enthusiasm this time around.

The swan spoke and cried out to another swan who was slightly bigger and had a cap of silver upon his head. "Oh, Edmund, come quick! Look! There's a baby in the well!"

The silver-cap swan looked down and saw Frank for himself now. "What sort of horrible parent would abandon their child in a well?"

The swan that had once been a princess called Lucy shuddered. "You don't think whomever put the little fellow here meant to..." her voice trailed off as the thought was too terrible for her to finish.

The swan that had been her brother Edmund arched his neck and nodded grimly. "I haven't a doubt."

"Oh, Ed!" The Lucy-swan exclaimed, little tears rolling down from her eyes to the tip of her beak. "Couldn't we get the poor thing out?"

"It isn't as if we could just leave him here." Edmund sighed, knowing there was nothing else for it but to take the child in themselves and hope for the best.

So, with a lot of careful struggling, the two swans-wishing their brother Peter was there with them because of how much bigger and stronger he was compared to them-caught up the baby's blankets in their beaks, managed not to unroll it and drop him into the water after all for all their pains, and soon after the sunset and they regained their human forms. Once human again, Edmund took up the baby into his arms and they hurried back to the pavilion.

Peter wasn't there; he must have flown too far to travel back in one day and had to rest somewhere else for the night. As this had been happening an awful lot lately, they knew not to worry too much. Sometimes he had been away for days at a time and arrived back to Aslan's camp very weak and tired, completely exerted from his journey; as there was nothing they could do to dissuade his constant attempts they'd just had to get used to it in the end. Lucy only hoped he was safe, where ever he was. Having already lost her sister, she had no wish to lose her brother as well.

Back in Telmar, time passed slowly and painfully, the sadness and even the tension between Susan and Caspian worsening over it. He did not know what to say to her, and of course she certainly said nothing at all to him-for she faithfully kept her vow. One evening, on their first anniversary, when a grand, but relatively small for castle-folk, feast was thrown for them and Susan was feeling particularly upset and broken-hearted as though she could take no more of the pain life continued to throw at her, she slipped silently away from the dinning-hall out to the garden.

Little bits of silver paper in the shape of banana leaves hung around the trees and bushes to look festive caught the moonlight and only made her feel worse because the colour reminded her of her knitting. This should have cheered her, perhaps calling to mind that she was making good progress on Lucy's shirt-Certainly, she wasn't going to finish it any time even remotely soon but at least it had hope of being done in much less time than it had taken to complete Peter's shirt-but she didn't feel anything except for numbness and dread.

If she had come out a little earlier, perhaps just as the sun was setting, she might have noticed that the swan who very nearly crash-landed into the fountain wore a golden crown on his head and was starting to look a little less like a bird and more like a man the further the light of the sun traveled down the distant horizon. She might have seen the tired bird-man thing, rise from the fountain in a completely human form-a very familiar one at that-and blink around the garden in confusion.

As it was, Susan did notice something. Not far from where she was, stood a boy-young man, rather-a little older than herself, tall and golden-haired.


	16. A misunderstanding

_I have never wanted to speak-to cry out-so badly._

_"Is it really you?" I want to bellow across the garden._

_I cannot believe it._

_But of course, I desperately want to believe it._

_I want to believe it with all my heart._

_For the figure standing in front of me is not a stranger._

_It is my own brother; our family's eldest boy._

_He sees me now and blinks rapidly as if he thinks the moonlight must be playing tricks on his eyes._

_I can see him clearer now._

_A little older than when I saw him last._

_Enchantments, it seems, do not take into account the years of a person's life they are wasting._

_His embroidered white shirt and brown trousers are not in themselves at all impressive;_

_still, to me he has never looked more kingly, more brotherly, or more magnificent as he does right now._

_"Oh, Susan!" He gasps breathlessly, rushing towards me. "It is you! Thanks be to the Lion! Su, put your hand on me so I can feel you and know I'm not dreaming this."_

_Tears stream down my face, I am so happy that even if I could speak to him, I wouldn't be able to._

_My brother, my brother, you've found me at long last!_

_How it all comes back._

_Our whole happy childhood; the wonderful memories of my siblings I've tried to repress because it hurts too much to think about._

_My shaking hand reaches out and lands on the side of one of his shoulders._

_His body is instantly racked with sobs as my hand gently slides down and away from him._

_He throws his arms around me and embraces me tightly._

_It doesn't seem as if he ever means to let go and I don't mind._

* * *

"Susan," Peter whispered, clinging to his sister tightly until his arms began to ache as though he was afraid that if he let go she would instantly disappear and it would be as if they hadn't found each other again at all. "I thought I would never see you again."

I've missed you, too, Susan thought as Peter finally began to loosen his grip a bit so that she could actually breathe.

"But, then, what on earth are you doing at the Telmarine Castle?" Peter laughed suddenly, looking down at his sister's clothing. "Did you gain weight?"

Susan lightly smacked him on the arm. She actually had gained a bit of weight since she'd last seen him-from having the baby-but she had lost most of it by this point, over-all depression having taken its toll on her.

"Sorry, Su." Peter chuckled, fairly beaming with joy. "I see you're still not speaking."

For an answer, Susan shrugged and nodded, unable to stop smiling. This was the happiest she had felt in so long; she couldn't help worrying that this was just a wonderful dream she was going to wake up from at any given moment. If only her siblings could come and live with her and Caspian-he'd like them, she was fairly certain; if he loved her, surely he would be quite fond of her family as well-but, of course, it was impossible. Peter would turn back into a swan as soon as the night ended and the sun rose.

He'll have to fly away from me, Susan thought-hot tears pricking her eyes, oh, I don't want him to go!

She wondered now if the others were with him and, eager to see Edmund and Lucy after all this time, Susan tried to get around Peter and look behind him.

He understood. "They're not with me, Su, I'm sorry." He put his arm around her comfortingly. "I've been looking for you for so long and it was safer for them back at Aslan's camp."

In a few short sentences, Peter explained about his own vow: to search for her each day no matter how long it took and how he had traveled over so many places never expecting to find her in a royal garden in Telmar when he'd gotten a little lost shortly before sun set.

"I can't even imagine how you ended up _here_ of all places." Peter sighed, shaking his head and grabbing onto her wrist. "Well, no matter, you'll come back with me to Aslan's camp and-" He stopped talking when he felt her resisting his tugging.

Susan wished there was some way to explain to him why she couldn't go back. How could she just go off with him and leave her husband behind? What about the silver shirts, anyway? She couldn't leave without them although he had forgotten about that in all his excitement at finding his lost sister. Of course, she wanted to go back home to Narnia with him and be amongst her own people at the army camp and see her younger siblings again, but she simply couldn't. There was only one thing she could do to explain. Weeping softly, she lifted up her left hand and showed Peter her wedding ring.

Peter's jaw dropped open and his eyes flashed over-protectively. Susan winced, she knew that look.

"Who did this to you?" He demanded harshly as if the golden band on her finger was a bruise or a cut.

I do hope he doesn't think that I was _forced_ to marry someone, Susan thought-feeling once again the horrible consequences of being mute for two and a half years, How can I explain that it was something I _wanted_? Not that he wouldn't be upset either way, he's always been like that, but at least he should know that I do love my husband and for the most part we are happy together.

Feeling a little silly, Susan pantomimed the emotion 'happy' and motioned downwards at her finger hoping her brother would get the hint. After almost five minutes, she still wasn't sure if he understood completely but at least she had made an effort to explain, if nothing else.

"It doesn't matter." Peter decided firmly, smiling down lovingly at his sister. "As soon as this horrible enchantment is ended, we will have everything all sorted out and taken care of." He came a step closer and took her hand in his. "For now, I can't just leave you here, you will come back with me to Aslan's camp."

Susan looked up at him tearfully and shook her head.

"But Susan-" Peter protested, letting go of her hand and grabbing onto both of her shoulders, bending down a little bit so he was looking directly into her eyes. "You can't mean to stay here and it isn't as if I could stay behind and look after you, they'd call me a performing animal when I changed back in the morning-they don't trust such things in here in Telmar...it's too dangerous..."

How Susan longed to race back into the castle, grab the shirt she had completed for him, and fling it over his body-saving him from his enchantment! But she knew it would do no good because from what Aslan had told her-though he hadn't said so directly-it seemed that she had to be silent and complete _all_ of the shirts first, and _then_ undo the curse. And, of course, she knew Peter was right about Telmarines distrusting the nature of talking animals. Caspian and his tutor were the only ones who were likely not to suggest getting a cross-bow and shooting at her poor, white-winged, brother! Even if they did accept that he wasn't really a bird, but a crown prince under a terrible enchantment, there would still be a good deal of danger for Susan herself. If the those who didn't want her as princess, and later as queen, learned she came from a family under a curse, well, who knew what sort of horrible things they might try to do in attempts to 'save their country'?

Yet, she knew no matter what Peter said, she would not go and leave Caspian-he had just lost his son, the last thing he needed was to lose his wife as well. Oh, if only there was some way of explaining! Perhaps she could go back inside and grab Caspian's arm and lead him out back to the garden, then Peter could speak for her and explain everything and Caspian could-oh, but what was the use? Someone would see her come into the room and lead her husband outside, there were too many courtiers for no one to notice. Should anyone else follow her out to the garden and see Peter there it might not go very well. She thought seriously of forgetting about introducing her husband and brother for the moment and fetching Doctor Cornelius instead, as it was less likely to be noticed, but then she remembered that the professor had retired early and was sleeping in his chamber and to be caught going _there_ at night-well, there were sure to be lots of questions. It seemed the only thing she could do, was let her brother go off again and pray and hope that now that he knew where she was, he would come back again some other night.

It was at this point in time exactly that Caspian, who had left the festivies to go look for his wife, came to the garden and stood in the corner watching Susan speak to this strange person he had never seen before. It was a rather handsome fellow whom he took at once for a Narnian-or at least something similar because he certainly didn't look anything like a Telmarine. Curious as to what was going on, Caspian quietly crouched down in the near-by bushes to listen to what ever it was the Narnian was saying to Susan.

"Susan, please," The fair-headed young man was pleading with her. "come back with me, with all that's happened-all that is happening-I can't just-oh, Su!"

Susan was crying rather heavily at this point but she stood her ground and shook her head, refusing to comply with the man's earnest pleas. Tears streaming down her face, she unfastened something from around her neck-the golden chain that Queen Helen's ring was kept on like a pendant-and gently put it around his (she had intended to wait until the curse was over but as it was, she felt she must leave her brother with _something_ ).

"Susan..." Peter whispered, clutching her hands tightly in his. "You can't-"

Standing up a little straighter, Susan bid him farewell with a kiss on his cheek. _Please tell Lucy and Edmund I love them and miss them and think about them every day; goodbye Peter, I'll miss you terribly but I cannot come, please try to understand._

As it was, Peter did not really understand but he knew, from her silence at the very least, that she loved all three of them dearly and no matter what, would one day be with them again-it just wouldn't be today. Bright tears dropped like a heavy rainfall from his own eyes-feeling as though he was losing his dear sister all over again. And to think that, even in all this, she had kept the ring, his birth-right, safe for him-it was almost too much to bear.

Caspian understood what was going on even less than Peter did and was nothing short of stunned, confused, and quite hurt to see his own wife-whom up until now he had trusted completely, never having any reason to doubt her-embracing the strange young Narnian in the garden. Upon seeing her kiss his cheek, he got the wrong idea entirely-after all they were alone together under the moonlight and they embraced again afterwards as though neither could will themselves to let go of the other-not knowing that they were family, blood-related.

If he had perhaps been thinking a bit more clearly, if perhaps he wasn't focusing on the fact that his wife-because she could not speak-had never actually _said_ she loved him, if he hadn't been so quick to jump to conclusions, he might have been clever enough to figure out that the hug and kiss he had witnessed were not even slightly romantic. He, however, did not pick up on this and-feeling very betrayed and torn-went back in the castle and retired to the bed chamber.

"Now that I know where you are, I'll come back as soon as I can." Peter promised when they were finally able to pull away from one another. "I don't know if I can bring the others with me-it mightn't be safe for Lucy-perhaps I can get Edmund to come with me one time, how does that sound?"

She squeezed his hand lightly and smiled to assure him it sounded good; she only hoped they would take caution and not let themselves be seen.

"If you ever need us though, Susan, we'll come." Peter told her softly. "I promise, just be safe, alright?" He paused for a moment. "Oh and if I ever come to find out that your husband isn't good to you, I'll kick his-"

 _Peter!_ Susan rolled her eyes and gave him a light slap upside the head so that he couldn't finish his sentence.

"Ouch!" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Then, "Goodbye my poor silent sister." (It was a pity Caspian had not stayed long enough to hear him say that; it would have saved everyone a whole lot of trouble and heartache).

Goodbye, Peter, dear brother, Susan said in her mind-thinking sadly about how much fun they'd used to have together when they were little children in Cair Paravel and how different this somber meeting had been from those joyful romps.

A couple of hours before sunrise, Susan went back inside to the bed chamber she shared with her husband, changed into her night-clothes, and climbed into bed. She was feeling both very happy that her brother had found her again and very sad that he was unable to stay; she turned to her husband's-presumably-sleeping figure for comfort and pulled herself close to him. Caspian was not asleep after all and nudged her away rather gruffly because he was angry over what he thought he had seen in the garden.

"Don't touch me." He snapped rather nastily without giving much in the way of an explanation.

Susan sat up a little in the bed and stared down at him, her eyes wide with confusion. This wasn't like him at all; to be so cold and curt with her had never been his way. He had always been so kind and tender-hearted towards her which had been a good part of the reason she had fallen in love with him to begin with.

He opened his eyes and stared back at her for a moment before climbing out of bed, shaking his head in disgust, and saying, "I think I'm going to sleep elsewhere tonight."

Susan could do nothing but watch him go and wonder what she could have done to upset him so greatly-to make him dislike her-as she laid her head down on the pillow and glanced out the window at the sky which soon would be full of the light of the rising sun.


	17. Things to think about

_If only I could speak._

_As if I did not have enough to lament about in my life already, my husband is now angry with me and I don't even know what I have done wrong._

_The looks he gives me vary from sad glances to stony-hard glares and I cannot figure them out._

_I long to blurt out, "By the Lion himself, Caspian, what seems to be the problem?"_

_But then, Edmund's face comes to mind or I happen to see a swan-not one of my siblings, just an ordinary bird-fly by a window and I imagine Peter and Lucy trapped in that form for ever._

_I distract myself by making my mind think of nothing but the work my hands must do as they struggle to continue knitting Lucy's shirt._

_Soon the two and a half years will be over and my siblings will be free._

_I will be free, too._

_I will make Caspian tell me what the matter is then and everything will go back to the way it should be._

_But what is the way it should be?_

_I can't help wondering at that._

_Where will I live when this is all over?_

_In Telmar with my husband?_

_In Narnia with my siblings?_

_In a castle?_

_In an army camp?_

_What about Jadis-the white witch?_

_What can we do about her?_

_She is still in our castle, Cair Paravel, I think._

_My thoughts turn back to my child as well._

_If he is alive somewhere, will I be able to find him myself once the curse is over?_

_Will I even recognize him if I do?_

_Or will he be too old by then?_

_Silver shirt, I think, don't think of anything else, silver shirt, keep knitting, keep strong, keep quiet, keep speechless._

_Wont speak._

_Can not speak._

_Mustn't speak._

_Will not Speak._

_Shall not Speak._

_A mute princess of Telmar, knitting, I remain._

* * *

Doctor Cornelius was squinting down through his silver nose-bridge spectacles at the page in the thick, would-be dusty if he didn't take it down and wipe it every fortnight, dark-spined tome of Narnian history; always having thought it very important indeed to remind one's self of one's true heritage when one had been living in a foreign country for so long, when Caspian-after giving the door a hard tap to alert his tutor to his presence-entered the study.

Upon catching sight of Caspian as he looked up from the page at the crown prince, Doctor Cornelius was unsure if he wanted to feel sorry for his pupil and comfort him or else if he wanted to do what he had never dared to do in spite of how fatherly he felt towards him-smack him across the face.

This was because he had seen with his own tired old eyes this morning, Caspian deliberately snub his own wife at least three times! First, she put her hand on his shoulder at breakfast and he shook it off as if it was a fly landing on him (The professor was more than a little unnerved to see the pleased glances Miraz and Prunaprismia exchanged when they saw him do this; Caspian didn't take any notice of his aunt or uncle). Later, Susan had smiled at him when he passed her in a corridor and he'd pretended not to see her do this and kept on walking without so much as even a small nod to acknowledge her. The latest expression of his sudden unwarranted revulsion toward his princess that day had happened when Susan had come and sat beside him in the courtyard in the shady part of the day-as she had done countless other times before-and Caspian had stood up and walked away.

An hour after that rather unsightly exchange, the professor had seen Susan sitting in her place by the window knitting and he noticed a few tears sliding down onto the silver thread she struggled with-she tried to hide them, but he saw them anyway and was worried. This distressed him greatly both because he could not bear to see any Narnian, one of his own kin, be mistreated and because he had grown to love her as any elderly person learns to love a good child.

The poor princess, Doctor Cornelius thought-watching her fingers tremble with grief as they did their knitting, she's lost her baby to who-knows-what and now her husband wont pay her any mind at all! I must speak to him about this as soon as opportunity allows, it must not be allowed to go on like this, I don't think Princess Susan will be able to stand it much longer.

So, now that Caspian stood before him-looking so upset and tired-Doctor Cornelius was at quite a lost at what to do. Finally he settled on asking Caspian what the matter was.

"Nothing." Caspian moaned airily, the way people often speak when a subject they do not want to talk about is brought up.

"I certainly hope that is not true, my prince." his tutor replied in a surprisingly meek tone for all of the disappointment he felt towards his beloved student at the moment. "I did not think it of you to treat your wife unkindly over 'nothing'."

"What are you talking about?" Caspian said, unable to look his professor in the eyes all of a sudden.

"Your highness, surely you do not think the mistreatment of an innocent princess-of Narnian heritage, no less-would go unnoticed by me."

Caspian's brows frowned angrily. "Innocent indeed!"

"What's this nonsense?" Huffed Doctor Cornelius, his own gray brows frowning into a deep fuzzy silvery line low on his forehead. "You aren't putting faith in what your aunt said about her harming Frank are you? Caspian, surely you-"

"It has nothing to do with that." Caspian told him. "It has to do with what I saw with my own eyes."

"And what did you see?" He asked him calmly, willing to hear the prince's side of the story before launching into a full consul over the matter.

"My wife-the one you think so innocent-in the garden with another man last night." Tears filled his eyes at the thought of it, he almost wished he hadn't gone out to the garden and had been allowed to keep living in the belief that his mute wife truly loved him.

"Hogwash." Snorted his tutor with a short eye-roll.

"What?"

"Hogwash, your highness, is a term meaning nonsen-"

"I know what it means!"

"There is no need to shout, your highness."

"So you don't believe me then?" He suddenly felt angry at Doctor Cornelius for taking Susan's side just because she was a Narnian. Yes, Narnians were fascinating, but that didn't mean they never did anything bad.

"I believe you _think_ you saw something;" He explained mildly, daring to put a firm, but tender, hand on Caspian's shoulder to calm him. "But I don't believe the princess would wrong you in that way, she is too good hearted, as you yourself have often pointed out."

"I thought she was." Caspian admitted, blinking wearily. "But after-"

"Did you know the man in the garden?" Doctor Cornelius asked him point-blank.

"Well, no..." Caspian shrugged his shoulders. "He was a stranger."

"What did he look like?"

"A Narnian."

"And what exchange _exactly_ did you see between him and your wife?" He asked in a tone that suggested he was getting right to the roots of the matter.

Caspian didn't want to put the image back into his mind but for the professor's sake-and for argument's sake-he allowed it. "He was pleading with her to come away with him and she was shaking her head no. Then, she gave him something-that chain with the ring on it, Helen's ring, I mean-and she let him put his arms around her and hold her for a few moments."

"And?" The professor looked at him expectantly.

"And what?" Caspian's forehead crinkled.

"And what else happened?"

"Nothing, I left after that."

"Sire, what I say next I say as your close friend but not as your subject, if you will pardon me and allow me to say it." his tutor warned him.

Caspian nodded. "Yes, doctor, speak freely."

"You are an imbecile!" The professor exclaimed, now that he was given permission to speak to the prince without subjection.

"Professor-" Caspian started before noticing the look on his tutor's face-realizing that he wasn't done yet.

"A Narnian comes to the garden, your wife is Narnian-grew up in Narnia most likely, as far as we know, and the man she spoke to knew her name...is that correct?"

"Yes it is," Caspian admitted, not quite understanding what he was getting at. "but-"

"Is it not likely, then, Caspian, that the person was an old friend of her family's or else a long-lost cousin?" He shook his head and sighed deeply; young people, it seemed, never thought things through these days. "And remembering that your highness took her from a place near an army camp, it is not improbable to assume she may or may not have had friends among the Narnian soldiers?"

"Friends, yes," Caspian was still not convinced. "lovers possibly, too."

"Don't show your ignorance, sire." His tutor said, his tone getting a little snappy now. "Do you know Susan to be the sort of person who would marry someone for their title?"

"Well no, but what does that-"

He didn't let him finish. "Then we would assume Susan married you because she loves you, right? And if she loves you, she would not carry on with strangers in the garden at night unless there was a reason for it."

"Reason?" exclaimed Caspian, losing his cool a bit a this point. "What _reason_ could she possibly have to kiss another man?"

"She kissed him?"

"Yes." He blinked back tears so that they blinded him slightly.

"Where?"

"Beg your pardon, professor?"

"Lips? Cheek?"

"Cheek."

"Oh by the Lion!" Doctor Cornelius had had quite enough of this. "A kiss on the cheek is a friendly gesture, Caspian, you might as well be upset because her royal highness kissed a horse on the nose!" he threw his hands in the air just slightly, as if to give Caspian a light tap because, being of lower-rank than the prince, he was not permitted to actually physically reprimand him.

"I know what I saw."

"I don't think you do." He said, his tone becoming quiet again as he reassumed the role of a meek tutor. "Please, sire, think long and hard about this; it would be such a shame for your relationship with your wife to be damaged over something that is very likely nothing at all."

"And what if it is something?" Caspian demanded, a few tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. "Then what?"

"Sire, have you never heard of a word called, 'faith'?" He smiled weakly at the prince and hoped he took his words to heart. "Have some towards her."

Miles away from Telmar; during the late evening hours, in Aslan's camp, Lucy and Edmund were taking care of the little baby boy they had found abandoned in the well. They had fixed up a sort of cloth-room with pillows and sheets for him in their pavilion and took turns holding him and, yes, though it was a messy job, changing the diapers they had made for him out of left-over scrap material from newer tents.

They had disagreed at first about how to nurse the baby; Lucy thought it would be best if they got milk from the talking cows that grazed near-by and tried to bottle-feed the child, but Edmund thought it wasn't good enough and something else would need to be done.

"But what else can be done for him, Ed?" Lucy had asked. "We ourselves can only care for him properly in the evenings."

"Supposing we got one of the female centaurs who recently birthed a colt to nurse him?" Edmund suggested reasonably.

"Oh, but..." Lucy was a little unsure. "...they're half-horse, you know. He's a human baby."

"They still have breasts." Edmund pointed out in a practical tone that made him sound very much like his older sister, Susan.

"That's true." said Lucy, the idea starting to grow on her a bit. "And I suppose it's what's best for him-if he can be nursed properly."

And so, they carried out Edmund's surprisingly sensible plan and arranged with one of the female centaurs who's breasts were swollen with milk, to feed the baby and to also look after it when Lucy and Edmund regained their swan-shapes every morning until the evening.

It was early evening when Peter, his wings fading away along with his swan form when the sun set and the world was turning purple-coloured, arrived back at the camp. As a human, he walked into their pavilion and he had a very different look about him as if something wonderful had happened.

"Oh, don't tell me you've found her!" Edmund gasped happily, guessing at once what his brother's facial expression meant.

"I have, Edmund, she sends her love-I think, but she couldn't come back; she seems to be...married...and I don't know what's happening with her, but she does look well...I think her husband must be a Telmarine lord in the court or something." Peter stammered, knowing how odd the news was and feeling a little silly that after all this time he had actually expected to just find her and bring everything instantly back to the way it was without any problems.

After they all got over the shock about Susan's being married and living in Telmar, a new matter was brought to Peter's attention, the baby started howling because he disliked hearing all their voices, knowing they were there and taking no notice of him.

"Where did that come from?" Peter mused as Lucy reached over to comforting the wailing infant.

"Did father never have that talk with you, Pete?" Edmund teased while Lucy gently cooed to the baby until he calmed down.

"How did it get _here_?" Peter clarified.

"Oh, that..." Edmund explained how they had found him alone in the well and that they thought the parents must have meant to drown it.

"We've decided to call him Frank," Lucy chimed in cheerfully, as Peter took the baby from her and gently bounced him up and down on his knee. "You know, after father. Since we don't know his real name anyway."

"I guess you're part of the family now, Frank." Peter told the baby who looked up at him curiously as if to ask why he had stopped bouncing him when he wasn't finished enjoying himself yet.

"I bet Susan will like him, whenever we can get her here again," said Edmund as Peter handed the baby to him to be put back to bed. "She always was such a motherly person."


	18. When faith is not strong enough

_Though it was not brought about by any speaking of my own,_

_For I am still under my vow of silence,_

_There seems to be a change that has come over my husband._

_He's stopped being angry._

_He doesn't seem upset that I spend so much time waiting by the window, as if expecting something-my siblings could come back to see me any day now for all I know._

_He is very nearly his old self again-like he was before I did whatever it was that made him dislike me._

_I still do not know what I did wrong though; he hasn't told me or even hinted at the matter so it remains a mystery._

_Part of me wants to be happy, to believe that everything will be alright after all, but I can't shake the feeling that it wont be._

_For he isn't exactly the same._

_Every now and then I catch a look-a look of doubt-as if my husband is forcing himself to have faith in me-why wouldn't he have it automatically?_

_Has his aunt said something to him?_

_What could possibly make him listen to her even if she has?_

_I try not to think of these things._

_My mind goes from one major focus to the other-skipping all other unpleasantries, lest I, still speechless, allow myself to be driven mad by them._

_Most of the day I work on Lucy's shirt, struggling until my aching fingers fall into an almost-comfortable, at the very least, stable, rhythm._

_At night, I sleep semi-peacefully beside my husband-sometimes he talks to me when he can't fall asleep-though never about anything terribly important, nothing in the way of explanation-and I let out little sighs and grunts to let him know I'm listening until we both nod off._

_I think about Frank constantly but I realize, before it has become noticeable to the other castle folk, that soon I will be bringing another child into the world._

_This time, I wonder sadly, will the joy be less?_

_Will anything happen to this one, too?_

_I wont let it out of my sight, I promise myself._

_When this little one enters the world, I'll hold it at all hours if I have to._

_I am used to aching fingers, why not aching arms?_

_Two months in, two things happen:_

_First, everyone learns for a fact that I am with child again._

_Second, I have finished Lucy's shirt and have begun work on Edmund's._

* * *

As fate would have it, shortly after Caspian 'forgave' his wife (secretly, in spite of his tutor's conviction that she was innocent, he still had a few doubts; though he didn't like to admit that-even to himself) and they began sleeping together again, she became pregnant for the second time.

Both Miraz and Prunaprismia hoped that this little one would be born in as perfect health as its brother had, for they still planned to use the children of the princess as tools for getting rid of her. One baby tragically disappearing from right under the nose of a mother who was unable to speak up and defend herself might be pardoned over time, but _two_? Especially if the surroundings made her appear guilty of harming the infant herself? Most likely, as she would not speak up and justify herself, it would be her undoing.

The nine months went by very slowly; for Susan most of all because she kept expecting Peter and Edmund-or, at the very least, Peter on his own-to return to Telmar to see her but they were unable to come due to bad weather-it was a very bad rainy season that year-unsafe for them to fly long distances in. Susan was more than a little thankful that Peter had discovered where she was before the nasty cold rains, sharp sleets, and tempest winds had set in, knowing that as likely as not, he would have kept on looking for her through them and perhaps put himself into some great danger.

When the time for the baby to be born finally did arrive, Susan was nearly finished with Edmund's shirt and-looking towards her calendar, noticing with great joy that the two and a half years were almost over-felt so relieved and contented that she almost didn't even feel her labor pains though they were just as intense as they had been the last time. She was perfectly happy, thinking that her brothers might just finally arrive on the very day that she could once again speak and she imagined herself introducing them to Caspian and showing them her newborn baby.

Unfortunately, her excitement made her very tired and, as she would not let the new baby (another little son who, unlike his brother, was unable to avoid being named, 'Caspian the eleventh') out of her slight, she soon became weaker and paler until one day when she was quite alone in her chamber with nothing but her almost-done knitting and her child to keep her company, her eyes that had not slept for nearly three days snapped shut and Queen Prunaprismia crept into the silent room. Lifting up Susan's weak arms very lightly so that she could remove the baby from them, Prunaprismia cleverly switched the baby for a bundle of empty blankets bound thickly together to feel like something more.

Once the baby was hidden away so that Miraz could ride out later and cast him down the same well he had disposed of his brother in, Prunaprismia returned with another bowl of blood-this time having not even the initial pang of guilt as she'd had the last time-probably coming either from a goat or a calf that had been a recent meal at the castle and carefully smeared it on Susan's mouth. This time, thinking subconsciously that the bundle in her arms was her child, safe and sound, she was unlikely to awaken before Caspian returned.

That's good, Prunaprismia thought-smiling a little to herself because she knew that in the middle of the bundle was a clump of gray ashes and there was no lack of strange old wives-tales in Telmar about witches being able to turn humans-or human parts-into ash. Even if he did not believe her to be a man-eater, she could be charged with witchcraft; or even both.

A few hours later, Susan awoke to see Caspian standing over her, looking down at her face with a horrified expression on his own. "Susan, what's that all over your lower face and your mouth?"

Reaching up with one hand, the other still around the bundle she believed to be the baby, she ran a finger along the side of her lips and felt dried blood; anxiously she opened the bundle, wondering why on earth she couldn't see her son's face sticking out of it, and gasped when she found nothing but gray ash inside. She flung the ashy-blankets down onto the floor, leaping up from her chair and looking both ways in a desperate panic-where was her child and why was there blood on her mouth? With a sickening thud of memory, she recalled wiping an unknown something off of her mouth after Frank had disappeared and realized that it, too, may have also been blood.

Oh, Caspian, please don't read anything into this, Susan thought despairing-noticing that her husband seemed rather frightened of her now; after his first comment of 'What's that all over your lower face and your mouth?' he had said nothing at all to her and she saw now that his eyes were wide and he was slowly backing away from her, I'm innocent! Don't you know me? Don't you trust me?

The sad thing about the nature of trust is the fact that once it is broken or torn just a very little bit, it can grow-like a hole in the back of a pair of pants left unmended-and feed off of worthless sources until it is something false and irrational, no longer existing as trust, but as fear-or even hatred. Caspian, having never properly mended his doubts that his wife really loved him, suddenly had more distrust in her than ever before. Was it possible that she was a witch or a man-eater? He didn't want to believe it, but then, he hadn't wanted to believe she was with someone else in the garden that night either and who was to say it was as innocent as his professor believed it to be? No one else would have had such conviction towards her-surely he was biased because she was Narnian, anyway.

Caspian, please, Susan thought-taking a step closer to him.

He was torn; how badly part of him wanted to throw his fears and suspicions aside-to hold his wife close and weep with her over the lost of yet another child-believing that she, his dear mute princess, was only a victim in all of this! And yet, supposing that wasn't the case? The blood on her face had to have come from somewhere. Shuddering with revulsion, he remembered what Prunaprismia had said that day when Susan had come in from the garden covered in soil: _It seems as though she's been digging a little hole_.

Shakily, Susan reached for her husband's hands but he stepped back again before she could make contact. _Don't you love me? You know I didn't do anything, you know this isn't what it looks like, you know it!_ Tears streamed down her cheeks making the inner part of her lips taste like dried blood mixed with sea-water.

As Caspian backed up further and further away from his wife, he banged into a table holding up a shinny brass vase which fell to the ground upon impact making a very loud clamor on the floor below.

Pretending to enter the chamber only 'to see if they were alright' after hearing that horrid crash, Prunaprismia and Miraz rushed in and gaped at Susan with feigned surprise when they 'took in' the state of her blood-stained face and the ashes on her hands from the bundles.

"Caspian, what is the meaning of all this?" Miraz demanded harshly, acting as if he was not-at first-concerned with the frightened look on his nephew's face. Then, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Perhaps not a ghost, my lord," Prunaprismia said to her husband, glancing over at Susan. "but something far worse."

"What living thing has the wench devoured?" Miraz boomed threateningly.

Prunaprismia reached down and picked up the bundle of ashes. "I think we may have our answer, husband."

"I-" Caspian's voice came out almost as a squeak as he was too over-whelmed to speak clearly. "I don't know what she-I mean,"

"What sort of mother is this?" said Miraz. "Who will not speak and destroys-or eats, which is worse-her own children?"

Susan looked to her husband pleadingly. Surely Caspian would come to his senses and speak for her now; she knew, Narnian though she was, that the law of Telmar for the most part only required a single person truly convinced of a wrong-doers innocence to gain at least a temporary pardon. All Caspian had to do was vouch for her now and by the time any more accusations might come up, Susan's two and a half years would be over at last and she could defend herself.

"What say you, Caspian?" Prunaprismia said in a mild tone. "Is this what it appears or is this only a misunderstanding?"

"I-" he began to stammer, glancing back and fourth between his wife and his aunt and uncle. "I didn't see-"

"You are her husband." said Miraz in a rather cold, no-nonsense tone. "You must either stand by her and speak up for her-or not."

"What say you, Caspian?" Prunaprismia repeated pressingly.

Caspian felt his throat close up on him. Susan was his wife and he loved her; no, she was a horrible human-eating witch and he loathed her. She was the sweetest, most gentle-natured person he'd ever known; no, she was a traitor. She was the mother of his children; no, she was the eater of them. She was innocent; no, she was guilty. She was harmless; no, she had misled them all! She looked so pitiful standing there weeping with no voice; no, she didn't deserve pity, she wasn't what she seemed! Which was it? He looked and looked at her, but as she remained silent and could say nothing regarding herself either way, he could not find any answers.

"I..." his throat opened again. "I don't know."

"If you cannot truthfully say you know your wife is not guilty, then she must be delivered up to justice." Miraz told him. "There is no other way; the law is the law."

At this, Susan rushed over to her husband as quickly as her two legs would carry her and threw her arms around his middle. He would protect her, he _would_! He was just in shock now; that had to be it. The tears in his eyes rivaled even her own but he did not say a word to her. Nor did he cling to her when the guards came into the room and forcibly unwrapped her from around his torso to take her away.

She shook her head at him and wept harder than ever but he didn't come after the guards or demand that she be released. He only watched sadly, standing perfectly still in that same spot in the bed chamber near the now-cracked brass vase. He watched until his wife's blood-red and lily-white face vanished from sight as the guards half-dragged her out the door way. Then he collapsed into the nearest chair and thrust his face into his hands.


	19. Give up?

_I cannot speak; I cannot defend myself._

_The dungeons are dark, I can't help thinking, very dark._

_I have heard of places like this but this is my first time ever seeing one for myself._

_I suppose there must have been a dungeon at Cair Paravel but I was never in it; actually, I was never even near it._

_Though it is really quite dry, the stones that line the wall-like shapes I can just barely make out in this bad lighting look wet in colour._

_Too dark; too smooth, even, to feel so bone-dry to the touch._

_The cell I have been put in has a small bunk that smells like Edmund's bed chamber the year he caught the flu and vomited up everything he managed to get down._

_Leaning my face towards the only semi-reachable light, a small tinted window lined with strong iron bars, I wrap the rough wool blanket I find in the bunk around myself._

_Tears stream down my face._

_I need to speak._

_If I don't speak, I'll rot here with no one to comfort my muffled wails._

_Or, more likely than not, they'll kill me._

_I'll be hung as a man-eater or burned as a witch._

_But if I speak, it isn't only Peter and Lucy being swans for ever that I must face._

_Edmund will die._

_It comes to this:_

_Is my own life worth more than the life of my younger brother?_

_No, I decide-biting my lower lip very hard until I taste my own blood, I would rather be killed than knowingly cause his death._

_I wonder what happens when a person dies._

_Are they gone for ever?_

_Narnians are very vague about that sort of thing._

_We don't dwell on it as much as other cultures tend to._

_I shudder violently remembering the archbishop of Telmar making a speech once about a fire-pit he called 'Hell'._

_He already came down to 'visit' me and tell me that's where I was going._

_Lovely man, isn't he?_

_I don't believe in it though, it's nonsense._

_If Peter were here, I'll bet he'd say it was nonsense too and that even if there was such a place, I sure as anything wasn't going there._

_A sob escapes from my shut-tight lips._

_I don't care if I'm going to Hell or if I'm just going to go out of existence all together._

_I just don't want to die at all._

_I want to live._

_I want to speak again._

_I want to play games with my little sister and run through meadows with my brothers, like we used to._

_I want to be a mother for more than a few days or weeks until my baby disappears._

_I want to know what it's like to have a grown man enter a room and greet you as, 'Mum'._

_I want to go to balls and events and banquets and have friends._

_I want to see my own country, Narnia, again._

_I want to be the one who throws the shirts over my siblings and saves them from their enchantment-I don't want them to just find the shirts when I am dead, which seems to be the most I can hope for now._

_How could my husband let them do this to me?_

_To lock me up away from the world while they talk about what they are going to do with me._

_Don't speak, I say in my head, even now._

_Wordlessly, I close my eyes, trapping a few left-over tears behind the lids._

* * *

Peter and Edmund, finally able to get through to Telmar after months and months of horrible delays due to out-right beastly weather, had arrived at a small camp of servants belonging to a Telmarine duke who had a love of nighttime hunting parties. They wouldn't have stopped but the sun set and, as they were becoming humans again and could fly on no longer, they swooped down low into a cluster of trees where their transformation would not be seen by even the most observant servant in the group. Then, once any traces of them having been swans a few moments before were gone, they crept over to the fire the male servants were building while the females worked busily at peeling potatoes to go with whatever meat the duke had caught that day.

"If you please," said Peter, in as unalarming a voice he could manage. "My brother and I are traveling and we've gotten a little lost from our party, may we stay here with you for a few hours tonight? We promise to be well on our way by the morning."

Edmund said nothing at all; he was feeling a little worried that they would be shooed away because both their looks and accents were overtly Narnian and more than a few Telmarines were prejudiced against that race.

These servants however were more indifferent to Narnians than they were cruel towards them and, knowing well their master was a bit scatter-brained and perhaps would not even take any note of the extra company, allowed Peter and Edmund to join them by the fire.

A few of them asked too many questions and Peter had no choice but to go on telling false stories about a traveling party. He never rose above being vague and they soon lost interest in asking him those sort of questions.

Just as Edmund was leaning closer to the fire to warm his hands and rub them together, a servant girl of about fifteen or so, asked if anyone had heard the rumors coming from King Miraz's castle.

"What rumors?" A man who looked like he could be the girl's father or uncle asked curiously.

"Oh, don't you know?" She said, clearly enjoying the attention having new gossip gave her. "The serving girl who's brother works in the castle kitchen came over the other day and said that Prince Caspian's Narnian wife is probably going to be killed."

"I saw her from a distance once," An elderly woman helping shell some peas put in. "Very lovely girl but she doesn't seem to say much. Princess Susan I think her name was, Maid Susan now; They don't get to keep their titles if they're to be put to death, you know."

"What?" Peter exclaimed, standing up from his place, horrified at what he was hearing. What were the odds that another Narnian named Susan lived at Miraz's castle? Slim to none. This was his own sister who's life was being threatened.

"Why are they going to kill her?" Edmund demanded in a voice that while under a guise of calmness was almost more dangerously angry even than Peter's was. "What wrong has she done them?"

And so the first girl, the one who had been telling them all about it, explained in a low tone about how the princess had given birth to two children-both of whom had disappeared-and it seemed that she had killed, maybe even eaten, them.

"And you see, she's a mute so it isn't as if she could speak up and justify herself." One of the other servants finished.

"We have to get to that castle." Peter said sternly, grabbing onto his brother's right shoulder. "Tonight."

"Why would you go there?" They asked as if Peter had just announced he must go to the moon at once.

"To speak for her." Peter explained. Though he certainly had no intention of revealing the whole story to these near-stranger Telmarines, he thought he simply must go to Susan's husband and talk some sense into him. What sort of horrible man would allow his innocent wife to be killed because she was a mute?

He had better be bewitched or drugged or suffering from delusions or else some other trouble, Peter thought bitterly, if he's doing this of his own free will, I may have to kill him.

"Who are you really?" One of the oldest male Telmarine servants there asked rather suspiciously.

"No one of importance to you." Peter said very gruffly, more concerned about getting to his sister before it was too late than answering the servant's questions.

"How are we going to get to the castle?" Edmund whispered in his brother's ear. "We can't fly at night, you know, humans don't have wings."

"You young men do realize that the castle of our lord, King Miraz, is a good ways off from here, right?"

"On horseback could we make it before dawn?" Peter pressed, knowing they very well couldn't just arrive there as a couple of white birds demanding an audience with the prince.

"Oh, well before." A little girl servant piped up helpfully. "Well before."

"But you certainly don't think you're taking one of our horses, do you?" A middle aged servant raised an eyebrow at them.

The two boys felt their hearts sink; that was very much what they had been thinking-hoping the servants would loan them a horse for the night-but now they didn't know what they were going to do.

Seeing the looks on their faces, the little girl who had spoken up before felt pity for them and, as she didn't much like the thought of a real life princess being killed (she was too young to know what a man-eating witch actually was or did), she gave them a new suggestion. "What about the traveling market venders?"

"What about them?" asked Peter, forcing himself to be polite because she was so little and Lucy-like.

"Well," She said in a voice that was-surprisingly-much more like Susan's than Lucy's. "They travel a lot, some of them even at night, if you hurry you might catch a ride with them."

"Where can we find them?" Edmund put in quickly.

"Only about a stone's throw away, to the left-see the large covered wagons just beyond those tall trees?"

Traveling through woods at night, even for a short distance, was not pleasant for either of the two brothers but as they could think of nothing else but reaching their poor speechless sister, they toughed it out until they came to the vendors. Many of them were harsh, over-all unpleasant men who didn't much like the idea of extra company, especially Narnian company when it came to that but in the end, they were too tired to ignore the young men's pleas and said they would take them in the direction of Miraz's castle if they would only stop jawing at them and pestering them with their constant begging.

It took almost three hours and it isn't to be said that there wasn't a great deal of nail-biting on both Peter and Edmund's part, but finally they had arrived only a couple streets away from the front doors of the castle (which they reached by running as quickly as their legs would take them on foot).

Panting for breath, Edmund and Peter raced over the-thankfully lowered-drawbridge, passed two guards that had fallen asleep, and pounded on the thick ebony-oak wooden doors leading into the castle.

A small opening in the middle of the door was swung aside; it was just large enough for an awake, burly-faced Telmarine guard with a thin black mustache to stick his mouth through and demand from them what exactly they meant coming like this at such an ungodly hour.

"Sir, it is very important that was speak to his highness, the prince right away." Peter spoke without hesitation, taking a step closer to the door.

"It's quite urgent." Edmund added earnestly.

"Stupid Narnians!" Huffed the guard angrily. "Go away."

"Now listen here you pompous twit-" Peter started before Edmund gave him a warning look, reminding him that insulting a reasonably high-ranked Telmarine probably wasn't the smartest thing to do in that situation.

When it became apparent that they were not going to be allowed in, Edmund whispered in Peter's ear. "Keep him busy, I'm going to sneak around to the back."

"What?" Peter said under his breath to his brother so that the guard wouldn't over-hear.

"Maybe I can't get into the prince's chamber that way, but I'll bet I can get close enough to the dungeons window and if she's in there..."

Peter nodded, there wasn't much hope in getting Susan out through bar-covered windows but it was better than nothing and besides, who was to say that Peter himself wouldn't be able to kick up a ruckus loud enough for the prince to hear and come inquiring about? "Go, Ed, I'll keep him busy."

Bending so low that his stomach was almost on the dusty stone ground, Edmund searched through all of the windows whispering, "Susan?"

At the first window, a toothless man hurled his wash basin at the window, apparently not liking being referred to by a woman's name. At the second, an overly-chatty criminal, so happy to have some outside stimulation, started prattling on about some pointless story to Edmund until he rolled his eyes and crawled onwards, hoping the man would get the hint that the conversation was over. Finally, a pale young woman's face, gaped at him out of a low window (Susan had over-turned her basin so that she could stand on it if she stepped lightly enough to avoid making it crack).

Even though she could just barely see his face, she knew right away that it was her younger brother.

"Susan!" He exclaimed, trying-and failing-to make contact with her through the window. "It's me, Edmund."

She nodded as if to say, "Yes, I know."

Suddenly it came to Edmund's mind that dawn could not be far off and if Peter did not get a chance to speak with the prince that night, and he couldn't speak with him in the morning, Susan might be killed before they could do anything about it.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Edmund knew there was one solution. It wasn't a good one, but it meant keeping his sister alive, even if the consequences would be horrid. "Susan, look here, they can't do this to you-you have to tell them what's really going on."

Susan shook her head. Was he mad? She couldn't! Not after all this time! Not when his life and Peter and Lucy's human forms were on the line! The two and a half years were nearly over, she couldn't give up and speak now.

"Su, if you speak, Lucy and Peter will be swans for ever, but at least they'll still be alive-me, it doesn't matter, this is all my fault anyway." Edmund said, unable to stop the tears that rolled freely down his face. "If anyone should have to die because of this..." He bit his trembling lower lip then released it. "...it's me."

Susan shook her head furiously. She wouldn't let her little brother die; it wasn't his fault, it _wasn't_! He had only been a child, he hadn't meant to betray them-he hadn't know what he was doing. Moreover, he had been bewitched into thinking his saw their mother's face in Jadis, where was the fairness in that?

Back at the front door, Peter finally did manage to make enough noise so that Prunaprismia, Miraz, and Caspian woke up and came out to see what was going on, but it was just as the sun rose and the only glimpse they caught of Peter was of a swan with something golden glittering on his head flying away.


	20. Fire's Words

_My younger brother urges me to speak._

_I wont._

_He'll die._

_It would be exactly the same as murdering him._

_I wont do it._

_I will not speak._

_My husband, whom I loved-love, still, though part of me hates to admit it-and I thought loved me, could not 'teach' me._

_His aunt and uncle could not frighten me._

_And now, I decide, my mind firmly made up and completely unchangeable, my own brother can not convince me._

_He wants to do the right thing._

_Well so do I._

_So I do the right thing, not for myself, but for him._

_For Peter and Lucy, too._

_I keep my mouth shut._

_Maybe I don't even remember how to speak._

_Two and a half years is such a long time._

_For all I know, I might be a real mute now._

_I think about that scream I had in the hole in the garden after my first little son went missing-supposing that was the last sound my throat had to give?_

_With my lips pressed together so tightly they hurt, I watch Edmund turn back into a swan._

_He gets smaller._

_Whiter._

_Feathers sprout-not one at a time but dozens and dozens at once._

_The wings spread and flap._

_I catch a brief sighting of another swan; Peter was here last night, too._

_And now they both are flying away._

_They came to rescue me._

_They came to speak for me._

_But though they have voices, they are not heard._

_If they did not listen to my brothers, why would they listen to me even if I did speak?_

_So it would be a waste, I convince myself._

_The two and a half years draw to their close only a few minutes after sundown today._

* * *

All day the castle consul, the royal judges, the highest born courtiers, and of course the royal family themselves, discussed what was to be done about the former princess, Susan. Caspian was the only one who said anything about wanting to keep her alive at all (Doctor Cornelius was not present at this meeting because he was a Narnian and Miraz, 'for the good of his country' would not allow it); everyone else wanted her death warrant signed and filed away right then and there, and they would have gotten their way except for they couldn't agree on how it ought to be done.

At least half the room thought she should have something heavy tied to her feet and be thrown into a deep lake so that she would drown. The other half thought it was a stupid idea-they wanted a hanging. Someone-it may very well have been Miraz-pointed out that burning at the stake was the most efficient-not to mention, appropriate-punishment in these sorts of situations.

"How can we speak of putting her to death when we haven't proven her guilt?" Caspian cut in, thinking he'd had quite enough of listening to them prattle on about which was the best way to kill his wife.

"We haven't proven her innocence either, Caspian." Miraz said coldly, barely even bothering to look over at his nephew with more than a slight side-glance.

"And we all saw the blood...and the ashes..." Prunaprismia added slowly and pointedly.

"I loved her." Caspian's voice wavered rather pathetically.

"She deceived you, Caspian." A possibly well-meaning Telmarine courtier said in a voice that would have been considered soft if it hadn't come from such an over-all husky-sounding man.

"She deceived _all_ of us." Miraz declared, putting his hands firmly on the sides of his throne and pulling himself up. "She lied and betrayed us all without speaking a single word. She's a foolish, dangerous-minded, cold-blooded woman who has no right to be a princess at our court...or at any other for that matter." At last he stared directly into his nephews eyes. "And for all her crimes, she must be put to death."

"Please," Caspian protested weakly, his thoughts all in a muddled mess swimming around in his head at the speed of light. He couldn't think straight; if she was a witch or else a man-eater, or both, why did he have this horrible inward feeling that killing her would be a mistake? Why did her beautiful, sweet, broken-expressioned face keep popping up in the back of his mind? "Can't we...we don't have to do anything just yet...let's keep her alive...just for a few more days...just in case..."

"Caspian," A duke, one of the consul men, huffed almost-angrily. "If a possible witch is allowed to go on living here, in Telmar, the people would revolt. They're terrified of witches, they fear becoming 'unholy'. Supposing she lived long enough to lay a curse on the land...it's frightful, your highness. Think this matter through and let her be burned this very day!"

"She is my wife." Was his weak-sounding protest to this.

"Caspian," His uncle growled sternly, his nostrils flaring in deep annoyance at his nephew's long delays. "do the right thing. The right thing for Telmar."

"Couldn't we just put her back where we found her?" Caspian came up with.

"And let some other prince or noble lord find her and have his kingdom suffer the same way ours has?" Prunaprismia coyly arched her left eyebrow.

In the end, Caspian was seemingly left with no choice but to allow the death sentence to pass. Doctor Cornelius was beside himself with grief when he heard of the prince's pulling out of the counsel and allowing them to do whatever they pleased with Susan; he pleaded with his pupil to reconsider but the prince just looked at his professor with sad, sad eyes as if to say, "I can't, I'm sorry..."

"You're making the biggest mistake of your life." Doctor Cornelius told him point-blank in a very bleak, the-world-is-ending sort of tone.

"Professor-" His face would have dropped if it hadn't already been sunken in with a sallow-coloured expression on it.

"You are the prince and it is the duty of your loyal subjects to stand by you," He said gravely, shaking his head. "In this, I find I cannot be your loyal subject-I cannot stand by you."

"I don't know what else I could have done."

"You could have believed her!" The poor tired-eyed doctor exclaimed incredulously. "By Aslan, Caspian! You could believe her even now and save her but you don't trust her; you don't see what's right in front of you."

"My hands are tied."

"Bull manure!" he lifted up his aching, aged foot and gave it a good stamp on the hard floor under him.

"Professor!"

"You're right, my prince, I've forgotten myself." The Narnian professor bowed his head slightly. "Recall, though, what I was trying to say before-I'm leaving, I can no longer be any subject of yours."

"You are my closest confident." Caspian told him in a low tone. "I have lost two sons and now I am going to lose my wife, must I lose my friend as well?"

Giving his former student a firm, but gentle, pat on the shoulder, Doctor Cornelius sighed, "Perhaps your highness would do well to realize that I have not been a good enough friend to you after all. If I had been, if you had ever learned anything from a word I struggled to instill in you, you would not have let it come to this."

Feeling angry that the one person he still trusted whole-heartedly was speaking to him like this, Caspian lashed out, "You are only convinced of her innocence because she's a Narnian! How do you know she hasn't-"

"Because I know _her_ , Caspian!" The doctor shouted, unable to keep his tone level any longer. "And I thought you did, too. I thought you loved her."

"I did." He insisted.

"Love does not exist without faith." The half-dwarf tutor reminded him meekly, his tone going a bit flatter now, though clearly still very angry. "I loved you from boyhood because I had faith that you would grow up to be a better king than those before you. Clearly, that faith was poorly placed."

"And my faith in Susan wasn't?" Caspian pointed out cheekily.

"You _had_ no faith in Susan." He countered bitterly, almost with a slight ring of hard laughter in his voice. "One cannot place anything one does not have."

"I think you should leave." Caspian closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw together.

"I will." Was the curt response.

"Where will you go?" He couldn't help being a little worried about his former tutor's whereabouts.

"Back to Narnia."

"They are in the middle of a civil war with a witch." said Caspian, fighting the urge to grab onto the professor's arm and stop him.

"I know, but at least there, no innocent woman is going to burned." And with that, he turned and left.

It was late afternoon when Susan, lifting her weary head up from her bunk, sat up, blinked, and listened to the sound of thick-soled boots striking the near-by stone steps leading down towards her cell. Some rough-looking Telmarine soldiers appeared, none of whom where the least bit familar, unlocked her cell and led her out by both arms.

Who are you? Susan wanted to ask-her mouth coming dangerously close to forming the words before she caught herself; realizing suddenly that she must still have a voice even after all this time-in spite of her fancies that she had lost it for ever somehow.

One of them, carrying a large blazing wooden torch, walked in the front while the others held on tighter and tighter to her as if they were afraid she'd break loose and run if they did not cling with a death-grip. A few feet away from them, barely even a real floor above the dungeon, there loomed a dark, thick-looking, black door with iron knockers and handles. Though Susan did not much like to feel like a coward, she was terrified of whatever reason they might have for bringing her into the room behind it.

Much as she tried to pull away, they held on and pulled back just as hard until finally they'd managed to get her through the door and to shut it firmly behind them.

"I suppose we wont have any unpleasantness?" One of the soldiers said dryly, either to Susan herself or else to the other soldiers.

"It's a good thing she's mute, most women would be screaming and cursing at this point." Someone answered in an almost toneless sort of voice.

This point of what? Susan wondered-her eyes widening unsure of what exactly they meant to do with her.

Without warning, the soldier standing behind her took a step closer, grabbed a hold on the back of her dress, and ripped it down from the collar to well-passed the middle of her back.

It took all Susan had in her to bite her lip and keep quiet through this also. It was especially scary because, not having any idea of what was going on, she was unaware that she was just being stripped down to her undergarments because people burned at the state were almost never burned in full clothing and had no reason to think the strange men didn't mean to undress her completely. As the soldier to her left started to pull the torn dress down from the front, she kicked his privates as hard as she could before the other soldiers grabbed her arms again and gave her a rough shake exclaiming, "None of that! Do you hear us? None of it!"

Sobbing and shivering uncontrollably, Susan felt her left arm slip through the hole and the tear in the back. Another tremor of fear over-took her and she tried to break away from them again before they pinned her down and started ripping the back of the dress even more so it would be easier to get off while she squirmed. Finally when she stood before them in her-thankfully long and thick-white undergarments, they grabbed onto her shoulders again, opened the door and led her out of the room.

Miraz was standing there holding the three silver shirts Susan had made for her siblings; all finished except for Edmund's which was lacking one sleeve. He thrust these into her quivering arms-finally released by the soldiers who knew she had no where to run at this point-saying that all articles of her witchery should burn with her.

Led by her shoulders now, Susan was taken out into the open-air which was growing colder and was made all the more unpleasant by the fact that she had nothing on but her undergarments, to a great hill a few feet away from the castle where a little wooden stand with a giant stake had been set up next to several bundles of dry straw. The silver shirts were taken out of her arms and dropped onto the straw closest to the stake itself so that they could grab her slender wrists and bind them tightly together with thick cords that cut into the flesh and made it smart. Next they bound her feet and tied her completely helpless body to the stake while a small crowd gathered below screaming things like, "Burn the witch!" and "Slay the cannibal!"

Tears fell from her eyes like diamond-coloured rain shooting down her face like falling stars, brightly burning as they were hurled down from the heavens. Looking over at the castle windows she could see from the stake, Susan saw that one chamber-the one that had once belonged to her and her husband-had an oil lamp lit in the window and she caught a fleeting glimpse of Caspian peering out through a gap in the curtains and then quickly drawing the drapes closed as if he could bear to see no more.

The archbishop started on a dreadful speech about how by this act of 'mercy' they were 'cleansing' their beloved country from the 'evil acts' of this 'unrepentant voiceless sinner' to which the crowd listened attentively all the while wondering when he was going to shut up and let King Miraz give the word to burn the traitorous former princess already.

Susan ran out of tears and blinked the last of them away, listening carefully for the sound of the bells that rang every hour on the hour. This was the very day the two and a half years would be ended; but she couldn't speak just yet. Not until the right dong. If she spoke too soon, all her pains would be for naught. She didn't look at the faces in the crowd and she stopped looking up at the window for Caspian, now she stared down with her eyes locked on the three silver shirts.

Edmund, she thought-her heart pounding faster and faster, his shirt isn't done, if only I had the rest of the yarn and my hands free!

In the distance, Susan saw a faint yellow light fading away. It was the sun, just getting ready to set. From the eastern side, came two white birds, swans, one slightly bigger than the other. The bigger swan had a golden crown on his head and the smaller, a cap of silver.

My brothers! Susan thought-her head starting to ache from the suspense; they were still far-off no one in the crowd had even noticed them yet.

The archbishop stopped prattling on about witches and eaters of human flesh burning for ever in a pit ruled by a red accursed demon shaped like a Narnian faun and let Miraz give the order. It was the same solider who had made the first tear in the back of her dress earlier who was handed the flame and ordered to light the fire.

He got lower and lower, everyone seemed to be savoring the horrid moment until, with a light tap of burning wood onto the straw, smoke curled up smacking Susan in the face making it hard for her to breathe so that she didn't even notice at first how very hot she was feeling.

This was just as the sun set completely and the two swans came into the view of everyone, not only their dying sister. Most remarkably, when they landed on the hill, they appeared not as swans but as two human boys-the older being more of a young man, the younger not far off from that-and raced up the hill, kicking the solider with the flame down it.

Susan could hear the dongs of the bells now; there were but three little dongs left until the two years were officially over and she could speak again.

_One._

Peter and Edmund kicked away the burning part of the straw so that it wouldn't reach Susan but would land on a wet patch of grass below and put itself out.

_Two._

Peter, though he didn't necessarily want to hurt-or kill-anyone, was more than capable of doing so to save his sister and a sword he had managed to grab quick as lightning from the closest solder's sheath slashed across at least three stomachs until he reached Susan.

Edmund was struggling to hold off the extra guards until Peter had gotten close enough to get Susan down from the stake while a few centaurs whom they had managed to send word back to Aslan's camp for (They were _very_ few because there weren't many who could be spared) and had been hiding in the crowd helped. Miraz, unable to reach the eldest boy, settled for doing something about the younger one first and started to come up behind him.

_Th-_

After nearly two and a half years of complete and utter silence, Susan's voice burst uncontrollably from her throat. "Edmund, watch out!"

Stunned that his nephew's mute wife had actually spoken, Miraz had no time to brace himself for Edmund's attack and he was quickly disarmed.

"I'm innocent!" Susan screamed from her place at the top of her lungs. "Get me down from here!"

Peter came forward and cut the cords, pulling his sister into his arms and off of the stake while she burst into hysterical wails that made her whole body rattle from head to toe.

_-ree_

Upon hearing the dong ending, Susan wanted to die right then and there. Because she realized she had made an unfortunate mistake: She had spoken one half-minute too soon.


	21. Try and take him, then

_For one half-second shy of two and a half years, I was dumb._

_I did not speak._

_Not a word._

_My own life was threatened and not a single syllable was coaxed from my lips._

_And now..._

_What have I done?_

_Oh, what have I done?_

_I was so scared, I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to..._

_Edmund!_

_I look over at him-he isn't dead._

_He's not even pale or sickly._

_Thanks be to the Lion, I think-exhaling deeply._

_He stands up straight, he doesn't hunch over as he fights any soldiers who come too close._

_Perhaps the half-minute didn't matter?_

_I want to believe that is the case but I can't shake the feeling that when it is least expected, that horrible half-minute will come back and haunt us._

_Will we ever be free?_

_Because I have spoken; my guilt is questioned and, at least for now, they wont burn me._

_My eldest brother, Peter, clings to me for a few moments while I weep into his chest harder than ever._

_I don't think he realizes that I spoke too soon._

_He thinks I've done it-that I've saved them._

_He doesn't understand why I keep whispering, murmuring into his warm, protective shoulder, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."_

_He must think I am simply in shock and will calm down soon._

_When I finally pull away from my eldest brother-before Edmund can come forward and embrace me, too-I race over to where the silver shirts still lay near the unburnt straw._

_I race back to Peter, flinging the silver shirt over his body._

_His face glows with a strange sort of white-gold light for a moment and the shirt seems to flash-like silvery-blue lightning._

_It stops: something changes._

_Somehow I know now that Peter will never be a swan again._

_That this is the form he will keep for always._

_Next-it ought to be Lucy's turn now (but she isn't here), though it isn't finished, I throw Edmund's shirt over him._

_The glow comes again but when it has faded, there is something wrong._

_Where the sleeve is not completed, my younger brother's arm sticks out as white as snow._

_Feathers sprout._

_A wing like that of a painted angel._

_Like a swan's wing but large enough for a human boy to bear._

_I see the truth now, Edmund shall have no left arm._

_Only a swan's wing._

* * *

Once all the commotion and fighting was over and Susan had thrown the two shirts over her brothers, holding the littlest shirt-for Lucy-safely in the fold of her right arm, the crowd stood gawking at Peter and Edmund. Then they turned back to Susan and blinked in amazement. The former princess Susan, the mute wife of their crown prince, had _spoken_? And who were these two Narnian men who had come to her rescue?

"My name is Peter, crown prince of Narnia; I am the rightful high king now that my father, King Frank, has passed away." Peter announced standing tall and giving the crowd-and Miraz and his wife-a fierce look. "My brother and I as well as our youngest sister, the princess Lucy, have been under a terrible enchantment from which this woman-" He motioned over at Susan. "-has just delivered us. This woman, is none other than our royal sister, oldest daughter of King Frank, the princess Susan of Narnia."

"I can speak now," Susan said softly, sounding distant and weak, her voice raspy from lack of use for nearly two and a half years. "I am innocent-I haven't harmed either of my poor babies-and this man speaks the truth, I am their sister; I am the princess of Narnia."

Using the arm that wasn't a wing, Edmund reached over to comfort his sister who's shoulders were simply shaking themselves to bits during her little speech. It was no wonder the poor girl was so frightened; her own husband had allowed her to be put on a stake to burn in front of her subjects!

Glaring over at Miraz, Peter exclaimed angrily, "And since you have had the audacity to dare put your hands on our royal sister and attempt to kill an innocent high-born Narnian woman, You shall not only give us guards for safe passage back to our own country but we demand four horses as well!"

"We do?" Edmund's forehead crinkled slightly, impressed by the forcefulness his brother spoke with.

"Wow." Susan muttered in a dazed voice, surprised beyond all reason at how grown-up her brother sounded. He really did sound like a high king and as soon as they did something about getting that horrible white witch out of their childhood home, Cair Paravel, he would be.

"There are only three of you." Miraz pointed out sulkily, pouting slightly-upset that after all the work he and his wife had done to get Susan onto that stake, she was being so easily rescued.

"You will be providing a horse as a gift for our youngest sister as well although she is not present." Peter explained to him in a very clear, no-nonsense tone. "But first you will be so kind as to get her highness, The princess Susan of Narnia, a dress to wear before she catches her death." It had not escaped his attention that his poor sister was wearing nothing but her undergarments and that the air was chill enough so that even after she stopped shaking from fear, she would still shiver a good deal.

Edmund snatched a warm-looking cloak of purple wool off of the shoulders of the nearest soldier and gently placed it around his sister, planting a reassuring kiss on her cheek.

"Hey!" The solider protested, though he dared not do anything more in all of the confusion going on.

As it was, Miraz was only trying to think of a way that he could kill all three of the Narnian brats and get away with it but before he could come up with anything, Caspian-having gathered up enough courage to peer out the window again only to see Susan standing on her feet, beside two young Narnians one of whom was the man she had been with in the garden before-came outside and ran over to his wife who had apparently just been declared innocent of her crimes.

"Susan!" He cried out, panting for breath as he rushed towards her.

Though she still loved him, Susan felt nothing but pure disgust for his childish display of faith, or rather, the lack of it. Faith only when it seemed safe wasn't really faith at all. He had a lot of growing up to do, that was for sure. On the day he believed her for her and not for what others said or tried to dissuade him into thinking, that was the day she would be able to respect him again. For now, she barely acknowledged him and leaned closer to Edmund for comfort.

"Who are you?" Peter-holding up a sword-demanded when he saw Caspian approaching.

"This is my husband, Peter." Susan said coldly.

Peter looked like he might kill him right then and there. "How could you let them do this to her? Your treatment of my sister is nothing short of-"

"Your _sister_?" Caspian gasped, blinking rapidly from deep confusion. He hadn't heard Peter's announcement before because the window had been too far away. Was it possible that the man he had taken for his wife's secret lover was really only a close relative she had been missing?

"Yes." Peter gritted his teeth. "My sister." He looked over at Edmund and nodded. " _Our_ sister, actually."

"What is wrong with his arm?" Caspian blurted out, noticing that one of Edmund's arms was white and soft, more like a bird's wing than a human's limb.

Susan's eyes filled with tears, not for her husband or for any amount of anger and resentment she may have been feeling towards him at the moment, but over her great sadness that she had not fully rescued Edmund, the one she had been so set on saving. She still thought of her younger brother as a boy misled and not as a young man who'd willingly betrayed them; she wanted nothing more than to release him from all his pain. And the wing seemed to be nothing but a bitter reminder than she could not do so. It stuck out like a swore thumb not only in her own eyes, but in those of others as well.

What Edmund said next, however, showed that he viewed the matter a little differently. The bird wing his sister could see only as a lingering curse she had been unable to break, he simply saw as a testimony of his sister's great love for him and Peter and Lucy; she could have just spoken and saved herself-like he'd suggested-but she hadn't done that, she had loved them too much. "There is nothing the matter with it," His voice was firm and resolute. "what you see is merely a symbol of a sister's unselfish love for her family."

Caspian opened his mouth to apologize, both to Edmund and to Susan but before he could say anything, Peter went over to Susan-opposite side to where Edmund was comforting her-and put his hand on her shoulder, lightly resting his head on her's for a short moment. "Come on, Su, let's go home."

"Susan I-" Caspian tried in vain as his wife shook her head at him and allowed her siblings to lead her down to the four horses that had been arranged to carry them back to Narnia in spite of Miraz's attempts to avoid giving into their demands. He had no other choice short of starting a war with Narnia and though he had no doubt they would win-what with Narnian troops being busy batting an evil witch at their capital-he doubted his nephew, heir to the throne, would willingly let him declare such a war, not after what had just taken place now. Caspian wouldn't make the same mistake twice; allowing what was closest to his heart to be destroyed because of false accusations. They were white horses-as white as a flock of swans in the summertime.

The journey back to Aslan's camp was long and though at first, still in a state of shock and even grief-as well as no longer being used to talking freely when she wanted to-Susan didn't say much, she eventually remembered that her years of silence really were over-even if she had spoken a half-second too soon-and talked to her brothers, telling them everything that had happened to her.

Peter had been absolutely furious with Caspian long before he'd heard his sister's story and now that he had heard it he was livid. How dare he treat poor Susan in such a manner! He was so deeply grieved over his all his sister had been put through, that as she finished her account of what had happened in the dungeon, he could not keep in the emotion in his voice or his eyes from which he cried heavily.

As for Edmund, his reaction to the story was no less intense that that of his brother but he showed it in a quieter, graver sort of way than Peter did. His tears were no less bright, but they certainly made less noise. It didn't come into his head to comment on Caspian's stupidity-Peter did enough of that for the both of them-rather his comment was that some honour really ought to be given to Caspian's tutor, for he seemed to be the only one in all of Telmar who kept faith in their princess.

"We could make him a duke of something, once we get rid of Jadis." Peter suggested, in a cold tone as he was still too angry with his brother-in-law to sound pleasant.

"I don't think he'd like to be a duke." said Susan, speaking very softly as if she was talking more to herself than to anyone else. "But I bet he would like to be a tutor again, to have his own study, to teach pupils...I think he really loved his teaching..."

Peter nodded deeply, tightening his hold on the reins slightly. "Of course, Su, whatever you think is best."

"We could set up something for him, in the castle...when we get it back...couldn't we?" She asked, sitting up a little straighter on her horse and looking out towards the dimly-lit horizon.

Edmund assured her they could but his attention was soon taken away from her when he saw the sun rising. He partly expected to turn into a swan again, having gotten so used to it, and couldn't help feeling a tremor of pure delight run up and down his spine when he-other than his winged arm, which hung uselessly to the side, somewhat tickling his horse's neck-remained completely human. He wondered if Peter felt as excited as he did; judging by the small smile that crept up onto his brother's formerly tight face, he must have.

Susan smiled at them. "It's good to see your faces in the daylight again."

"It's good to see yours through human eyes." They answered almost at the same time in the same tone of voice.

In all of this, strange as it may sound, even though Susan had mentioned her children to them, it had completely slipped the minds of both Edmund and Peter to mention that they and Lucy had been looking after an infant whom they, too, had named after their father just as she had named her first little son. It is a wonder that they hadn't put two and two together and realized, even by the end of the journey as they came into view of the very tree Caspian had taken Susan from so long ago, that the boy they'd been looking after was their own nephew. Thinking that surely someone-most likely Miraz and his wife-had done something terrible to Susan's children, they gave up those two baby boys for lost and were unable to think anymore of it without intense sadness, of which, they'd had more than enough by this point in their lives.

But when they arrived at the tent and saw a little swan-Lucy-sitting outside their pavilion, on a spread-out blanket with a little squirming baby crawling around it, Susan felt her heart stop. For of course, she recognized her son, little Prince Frank, at once. Frank, did not know his mother at first sight and, very happy to see his uncles again, crawled over to them, but Susan paid this no mind and simply scooped him up and hugged him as hard as her tired arms would allow as soon as he came near enough. Then, with a kiss on the baby's little head, she placed him into his uncle Peter's arms, took out Lucy's silver shirt from where she had secured it in the folds of her dress (for of course she had a dress to wear again now) and threw it over the swan that had been her sister.

Moments later, a little human Lucy nearly two and a half years older than when Susan had last seen her, stood before them, her face and shirt glowing brightly as she beamed at them happily. The two sisters met in a tearful embrace, neither able to remember when they had last felt so much joy, having missed one another so greatly.

Back in Telmar, Caspian somehow or other managed to get a full confession out of his aunt, uncle, and even the archbishop who turned out to be in on the scheme to rid Telmar of an unwanted mute monarch. Afterwards, before he and his horrible wife and the archbishop were to be handed over to justice themselves, Miraz was forced to tell Caspian where his sons were. Although he believed Frank dead after casting the baby down the well, the other son, Caspian the eleventh, had not yet been thrown down it because Miraz hadn't had a chance to ride all the way down to Narnia yet and was only hidden away in a very high seldom-used tower room.

When Caspian took his second-born son out of the tower, the poor baby was nearly starved to death because of course Miraz and Prunaprismia had given no thought to feeding a child they were going to have hurled down a well soon anyway. Wasting no time, he found both dairy maids who knew how to made enriched milk for the infant and Telmarine court women who had had a baby recently enough so that they still had a little milk in their breasts to spare for a child in grave need. It took a few days before the child was well enough both so that they knew for sure he would indeed live a long and healthy life as likely as not and that he was able to be subject to the journey down to Narnia so that Caspian could take him to see his real mother again. And of course, he also meant to beg for his wife's forgiveness though he knew he did not deserve it.

Entering into the camp he felt as worthless as a small ant on the ground and wondered that none of the centaurs and fauns polishing armour and swords, giving him such hard looks as he walked down the tawny green paths towards the royal pavilion where he was told Susan and her siblings lived, thought to crush him. Perhaps they simply felt they could not do it because of his martial ties to their princess in spite of his faithlessness-also, the fact that he carried such a thin, sallow-looking, helpless baby in his arms helped, too.

The tent's flaps were turned up and inside, there sat Susan, Peter, and Edmund around a large Lion who had just come back into the camp the night before-Lucy was half-on the side of him and little baby Frank was seated comfortably in his great velveted paws.

Aslan, Caspian thought-gulping heavily and holding little Caspian the eleventh a little closer to himself; remembering what his tutor and his childhood nurse had told him about Aslan, surely he will be very angry with me for not protecting Susan as I should have, maybe he will tear me to bits with his terrible paws, they are velveted for that little baby there, but they needn't be for myself.

Surprisingly, though perhaps not so much for those who knew Aslan better than a Telmarine Prince who has only limited sources on the matter, the Lion said nothing at all to Caspian and simply stood up and wandered away with Edmund and Lucy (who carried baby Frank in her arms) and walked a little ways off so that he could speak to his wife. Peter followed behind them but did not go as far as they did, rather he stayed pretty much right outside the pavilion, leaving the flaps still partly open so that he could keep an eye on his sister in case she needed someone else there for moral support.

Susan took the baby from her husband's arms and comforted the poor little thing who was not nearly so rosy-cheeked and playfully happy as his older brother was but she did not speak to her husband.

"Susan," he said, barely able to look her in the eyes as he spoke. "I know I've done you wrong, I've been so stupid...not to see it...but I know now that you would never do anything to hurt me or our children or Telmar or...anyone..."

"You know that _now_?" Susan said bitterly, blinking back tears as she gave the baby a gentle pat on the back because was making a sort of strangled sound like he wanted to burp.

"I should have known it before I just-" He started pathetically.

"Yes, you should have but you didn't." said Susan, her glare hardening on him as the baby let out his burp and started wailing until his mother's comforting rocking soothed him into a calmer state of mind. "I thought you loved me, Caspian."

"I did-I mean, I do." He told her, unsure of what else to say.

"If that were true, you wouldn't have let them tie me to that stake." Susan reminded him in a stinging tone. "You would have spoken for me, you would have been my voice when I had none."

"I was weak, Susan," said Caspian, stretching out his arm slightly as if he wanted to touch her but didn't think she would let him-he was probably right in thinking this. "but I do love you, I never meant to-"

"To what, Caspian?" Susan demanded with a pained expression on her face. "To let your people burn me for crimes I didn't commit? Crimes you knew I wasn't capable of doing?"

"I know it's stupid, but I saw you and your brother in the garden that night and I didn't know who he was and I saw him holding you and I thought-" He turned red in the face and began to stammer nervously when he said this.

"Dear Aslan, give me strength." Susan muttered sharply under her breath, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"And then after that...I don't know...I didn't even know who...I was stupid and weak...please forgive me."

Before she could refuse or forgive and before Peter could come uninvited to his sister's defense, there was a great clamor that came from the middle of the army camp and everyone rushed forward-those who where in tents left them-to see what was going on.

Jadis, the white witch, the former stepmother of the royal children, was being carried into the camp by several vile creatures at her command on a great golden litter without a canopy.

Susan's blood ran cold when she caught sight of the witch for the first time in so long; close to her person she held a bow and a quiver of arrows, she wasn't sure if they would come in handy or not, but she felt she really must have some means of protection from this horrible creature.

Standing up from the splendid litter which had been lowered to the ground, walking towards Aslan as she cast her cold glance at all of the good creatures and people she walked passed, Jadis announced her reason for arriving. "You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

Standing tall and proud and wonderfully golden all over, Aslan's deep voice answered the shrill witch's. "His offence was not against you."

"He is mine, Aslan." She said, smiling a slow, scary smile. "His sister spoke before the two and a half years were over and the shirt was not even fully completed for him-she may have the other two, the royal wench has won them fairly at the hands of the enchantment but-" Jadis turned and pointed straight at Edmund with her middle and index fingers. "-that boy is mine, he is mine and he shall die. He is my property."

In one swift move, arrow properly on the bow and the string pulled back, Susan stepped in front of her younger brother, pointing her weapon at the witch. "Try and take him, then."


	22. What Susan knew and how Aslan died

_We are together again._

_All of us, my brothers, my sister and I._

_Almost happily._

_Safe at least, or so we had thought...until she came._

_The white witch stares at me._

_She's come for him, for my younger brother._

_I stare right back._

_I'll shoot her._

_By Aslan, I swear I'll do it!_

_Stay away from him, I think, I won't let you hurt him again, I wont!_

_Aslan watches, eyes so large, like great still ponds of melted gold all swirling around so darkly-yet very bright, like yellow sparks._

_Save him, Aslan, I think-my fingers cramping against the force of the bow-string, tell her she's wrong, tell her he's not her's, tell her!_

_Aslan's gold-coloured mouth remains shut._

_Peter says nothing, tears in his eyes._

_Lucy whimpers._

_Caspian's mouth is slightly agape but I pretend not to notice, not to notice anything about him._

_The witch grows weary of all this and speaks-to me. "Do you really think that mere force can deny me my right? Little Princess?"_

_My blood feels like ice clogging up my slim veins._

_"Aslan knows that I cannot be refused; the traitor is mine-he will die." Her sneer is more than wicked, it is evil, heartless, animal, almost demonic._

_I cannot bear this._

_She cannot have him._

_She must have her traitor,_

_but she will not have Edmund._

_I am the real traitor._

_I betrayed him by speaking before the last dong was completed._

_I have given my heart, my safety, my voice, everything for my siblings-everything except my life, and I will give it now._

_"Jadis," I say, lowering my bow. "take me instead, I am the traitor."_

* * *

Every creature in the whole of the army camp fell silent at the Princess Susan's request to the witch. They knew it was no joke; her face was not teasing, her eyes were not playing a trick on the witch to fool her, this was serious-she really was going to give up her life for her brother.

"Susan, no!" exclaimed Edmund, leaping in front of her and looking pleadingly at his former stepmother. "Don't listen to her, Jadis! You know I'm the real traitor. Take me!"

Peter gently shoved Edmund just behind him. "If you please, Jadis, I am the eldest, it's all my fault; don't take either of them. Take me."

"You're not a traitor!" Susan practically shouted at him.

"Neither are you, Susan." Peter answered level-headedly, still looking at Jadis expectantly. "And maybe I am, maybe by not looking after you all well enough-"

"Peter, stop!" Lucy began to weep at this, unable to stand the thought of anything happening to their beloved eldest brother. "I'm the smallest, I'll never sit in a royal throne, no one needs me like they need you-have her take me. I'll be the traitor."

Instantly, Peter and Edmund pretty much threw themselves at Lucy's side and gave her a scolding-not a mean one to tell you off, just a sharp one to tell you that you are simply insane and mad and don't know what you are taking about.

It was at this point that Caspian did the first truly brave thing he had done up until now, without even hesitating or swallowing hard in his throat, he stepped in front of his wife and her family and looked the horribly beautiful White Witch straight in the eyes.

"If you please, your ladyship-er, highness?" He didn't know quite how to begin or how to address the witch, but he still knew he had to do this.

"This doesn't concern you, Prince of Telmar." Jadis told him curtly.

He bowed his head very low to show that he was in disgrace. "I am afraid it does."

"What do you mean?" The witch demanded.

"I am the true traitor, I betrayed my wife, I did not rescue her." He looked back at Susan and mouthed, 'I'm so sorry' before turning back to Jadis and finishing what he was trying to say. "If I hadn't allowed the people to take her to her death, her brothers would not have come to rescue her and she would not have spoken too soon; in all likelihood, the last shirt would have been finished as well. The blame is mine and no one else's."

"You are suggesting that I ought to take you as payment for the terms of the enchantment not being met properly instead of Prince Edmund?" She asked, as if trying to be sure she had heard him right.

"Yes." Caspian said firmly, lifting his head up a bit now so he could make eye contact with the witch's chilly stare. "I am willing to go in my brother-in-law's place."

"Caspian..." It was at that moment that Susan realized that even though she hadn't forgiven him yet, she wouldn't be angry with him for ever. She knew she still loved him in spite of his faithlessness; now she remembered why just a little more clearly, but she also knew she did not want him to die, either.

"Susan, just let me do this." He said gently, noticing that she was trying very hard not to cry.

"No, please," Susan's shoulders shook as they held back sobs. "just let her take me, go back to Telmar."

"No, let her take _me_." Peter cut in.

"No, _I'm_ the traitor." Edmund snapped, getting a bit fed up by this point.

"None of you, none of you!" Lucy wailed, very nearly losing her head and all sense of reason.

Suddenly, and very unexpectedly, a small, dark-furred, talking mouse with a golden band around one of his ears from which dangled a good-sized crimson feather stepped forward in the crowd and announced that his name was Reepicheep and he was ready to put the whole issue to rest.

"I suppose you're a traitor, too?" The witch raised an eyebrow. Her tone was sarcastic and strained.

Ever so seriously, Reepicheep lifted his sword, held it high, and exclaimed, "Yes, I confess!"

"Reepicheep, you little ass," said Peter in a tone that suggested that if the witch in all of her evilness was not present, he would have laughed. "do hush; this isn't the time or place for mice."

"With your majesty's leave-" The mouse had turned to Edmund now, gathering he would get nothing out of Peter in this situation.

Edmund had known the mouse well enough during his time in the camp to know what he was thinking before he even finished saying it. "No, you may not attempt a single combat with Jadis."

His little mousy eyes shown brightly with disappointment but his loyalty to the royal family, the true blood-line of Frank the cabby turned king, held him back from protesting any further. He had offered his services and-as this wasn't a war he could just run into when their majesties weren't looking-was now forced to reconcile himself with the fact that they had been declined.

"I say! That mouse sure can kill with looks, can't he?" Caspian whispered to his sister-in-law, Lucy, noticing the hard expression the little rodent was giving the witch.

Lucy nodded, regaining a little bit of her tranquility as she whispered back, "He's one of our best knights."

Aslan spoke now, putting all other conversations to a hush and a halt. "Jadis, come over here and meet me in the royal pavilion, I shall talk with you alone about your claim to Edmund."

Wearily, the Lion's eyes turned downwards, making his golden eyelashes flutter, and he walked slowly into the tent with the White Witch following close behind. She walked tall and proud as though she knew the world would rest in the palms of her hands no matter which way her conversation with Aslan went; whereas, Aslan, walked as tiresomely as though he was going to his own execution.

Lucy burst into tears all over again and threw her arms around Edmund's neck protectively; Susan was doing very nearly the same thing except to his shoulders on the opposite side. Peter gave Caspian a slightly softened look and a nod of faint approval, a sort of patching-up between the two men who had loved the same woman though in different ways.

Nearly an hour later, the witch came out looking triumphant and Susan thought for sure Jadis would come and take her now; because she would not let the evil woman take her little brother. But, strangely enough, it seemed as though Jadis meant to take no one at all. The only thing she said as she got back onto her litter was-to Aslan, "I do renounce my claim to the little brat. Make haste on your promise though, Lion."

What horrible thing did he have to promise her in order to save Edmund? Susan wondered in complete horror.

Aslan paused for a moment after Jadis was out of sight. He looked down at the four royal children, and Susan's little babies, and Caspian for a moment as if taking it all in to remind himself of something.

"You have your younger brother back, Susan." said the Lion. "And soon, the eldest will have his throne, bear it well."

"What about the war?" Peter blurted out, unable to help himself in spite of his intense relief that his siblings were safe.

"It will end soon, I think." Aslan answered. Thoughtlessly, he added, "Soon after..." His voice trailed off.

Lucy noticed that he had stopped himself from saying something and felt that it must be something important. "Soon after what, dear Aslan?"

He closed his eyes, sighed his deep cat-like sigh, and said, "After tonight, Lucy dear heart."

"What's happening tonight?" She asked, her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

Edmund's eyes were fixed intently on Aslan now, as if he somehow knew it concerned himself-or had originally, anyway.

"Lucy, Peter, Edmund, and Caspian, could you please all step back?" Aslan requested gently. "There is something I must speak with Susan about."

As soon as they were alone, Susan felt almost as desperate to comfort the Lion as her sister did. "Oh, Aslan..."

"Child, you wonder how I settled matters with the witch, do you not?" His voice was low and gentle; his lips close to her ear and upper cheek so that she could feel his warm breath blowing on her with each and every word.

"I do, Aslan." Susan admitted.

"You mustn't blame yourself." Aslan told her in a reassuring sort of way. "All will be alright in the end, for this must be done."

"Oh, what is it?" Susan cried, unable to take anymore of his delayed responses. "Do tell me, Aslan, please, I am to know, am I not?"

He let out a low growl, not at her, sort of out of suppressed frustration. "I am going to give my own life in your brother's place."

"No!" Susan burst out much more loudly than she'd intended, very nearly shouting in the Lion's face.

He planted a lion-kiss on her forehead. "Be strong and brave, my poor Susan. And do forgive your husband in time, he is weak but he does love you."

"I know." Susan hiccupped from a round of uncontrollable sobs that she had been struggling to hold back.

"And..." He glanced over her shoulder to where he could see Edmund standing a little ways off. "...Edmund need not come to know of this."

That didn't need explaining, Susan understood how awful it would be for him, she nodded and blinked twice until her eyes were reasonably clear again.

That night, as Susan lay weeping into her pillow in the pavilion for hours on end, not getting any sleep, Aslan stole away from the camp to where the witch was waiting.

Knowing in her heart that something was wrong, both with Aslan and with her sister, Lucy sighed deeply and rolled over. She had been up all night, too. It was hard to sleep when you knew something was amiss and your sister was crying harder even than she had cried when her own husband betrayed her.

Through a blocked nose, Susan spoke, turning over to face her little sister. "Oh, I didn't know you were still awake."

"It's nearly morning and you haven't taken a single breath that wasn't a sob." Lucy pointed out meekly.

"Oh, Lu..." Susan cried, sitting up on the soft pavilion cushions as she dug her nail-beds deeply into the dark red-as-blood fabric, tracing her fingers along the deep purple embroidery. "Something terrible has happened."

Lucy blinked at her sympathetically. "Does it have anything to do with how sad Aslan seemed yesterday?"

Susan nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"What did he do?" Her eyes widened as Susan took her hand and quietly led her out through the tent flap and away from the camp.

When they had passed through the small shrub-filled wood of tall trees and thick ivy vines that kept Aslan's camp somewhat hidden away from the rest of Narnia, not towards the direction of Telmar, but away from it, closer to the east (they could actually catch a small glimpse of Cair Paravel from the top of the hill they were climbing), something large and gray with strange markings all around it came into sight. It was called 'the stone table' and laid out there across it was a beautiful golden Lion with all of his flowing mane cut off and much of his soft velvet coat shaved away.

"He didn't!" bawled Lucy, shaking from her shoulders down to her ankles with horror. "Oh, he didn't do it!"

"He must have known..." Susan's voice trailed off as she placed a hand on Lucy's right shoulder to steady her a bit.

"How could he?" She looked at her sister pleadingly, begging for an explanation.

"He wasn't going to let her take Edmund, he never meant to." Susan managed through her tears, gently lifting her hand and moving a lock of hair behind Lucy's left ear. "Even if I spoke...oh, Lu, I think he would have given himself even then!"

"Could he have?" Lucy whispered, crawling onto the stone table as wobbly and helplessly as an infant; pulling herself close to Aslan's cold dead body.

Susan went up after her and her eyes locked with a red cut on his beautiful velvet-like flesh that she was sure had been how he died. The witch must have plunged a knife right into him there.

"I don't know." She said, finally. "But it's what I believe."

Lucy placed her head down on the spot where his mane would have been. "If we'd been awake and gone with him..."

"It wouldn't have changed anything." said Susan.

"I'm so cold, Su." Lucy murmured into what was left of Aslan's fur which had once been as vast as their beloved eastern sea. " _He's_ so cold."

"We should tell Peter." Susan gulped back the lump in her throat. "Surely a battle would be in order now that every bit of the curse is gone."

"Edmund's arm." Lucy reminded her.

Susan burst out in tears again. "Do you remember last night when I crept out of the pavilion to get a drink of water? I think Aslan must have already left and been dead, too, because I went to check on our brothers and..."

Lucy's eyes grew moist again, too. She could guess what Susan was going to say.

"I felt his arm...I thought...I don't know that if it was still a wing somehow Aslan might be alright...and the witch would...I-I know it makes no sense..." She reached up and did a very childish thing that she had not done since the tender age of about five, wiping her nose on the back of her wrist. "...It's flesh, Lucy, solid bone and flesh. He doesn't know yet, I didn't wake him up."

"We can't just leave him." Lucy kissed the dead Lion's cheek.

"We have to." Susan started to get up. "You're already cold and we'll surely freeze if we stay here much longer. And what's more, Peter will need to be told what happened."

"Why didn't you let Caspian take his place?" The words slipped out of Lucy's mouth before she could stop them.

"I-" Susan started, looking like she'd been smacked across the face.

"I'm sorry." Lucy apologized, moving away from Aslan's corpse and embracing her sister.

They stood up to leave, taking their steps carefully and slowly lest they fall all the way down the hill and get themselves killed. Oddly enough though, a sudden tremor knocked them to their knees, they grabbed onto the green turf until it stained their pale fingers a mint colour and let their eyes drift over to the stone table. It was split down the middle and Aslan was gone.

"Aslan!" Lucy gasped, her breath and arms equally shaky. "Where is he?"

"Oh, they really might have left the body alone!" Susan exclaimed.

But as the sun rose, they saw a very wonderful thing indeed coming towards them. A great golden Lion with a mane more full and more wonderful than ever and a laugh so very much like their Aslan's that they knew it must he him, though it seemed impossible.


	23. An epilogue of swans

_Edmund's Epilogue_

It was a warm, glorious mid-summer the year the Narnian civil war ended. Thousands of roses all the colours of the rainbow arrived and bosomed into full bloom in the garden of the castle that was ours once again. I remember that morning especially because I found that I had an arm where a wing had been before-It was _my_ arm, just like the one I'd had before I became a traitor and then a white swan.

I'm not sure if I understand exactly how it all happened. Aslan came back into camp and we were all told that the witch was dead and the battle, the one we ought to have been starting, was already over, over before it even really began. I am not even sure where it was Aslan came back from. Susan knows-and I think, Lucy does also-but they wouldn't-still wont-speak of it. Mostly Susan, she would give me those serious looks I knew meant I should drop a subject, whenever I brought the matter up.

It has never occurred to me to try to ask Aslan himself about what really happened that night; somehow it just doesn't seem right.

Anyway, I think that's how it is supposed to be.

That only Susan and our littlest 'Swan' know the whole truth of it.

_Lucy's Epilogue_

Aslan came back to life after the stone table split in two. I will never forget how Susan and I ran to him and caressed his beautiful, beautiful fur shinning in the new morning's sunlight, without even been asked. Somehow, we just knew it was all right, that it was our fate to welcome back our Lion. Even if he wasn't tame, he was ours. Not ours alone, but still ours all the same.

He explained it to us then, about how Jadis, the white Witch, didn't know as much about this 'stone table' as she thought she did. She hadn't known that only a traitor killed there would die for ever, that a Lion who hadn't done anything wrong to Narnia would die only for a night, and the clocks of blood and life would turn back for him in the morning. That would explain how his mane and fair golden coat grew back so quickly, I suppose.

The witch's wicked heart broke with the stone table and she fell down dead at a battle still raging at Cair Paravel (my brothers were not present for this, they were sleeping in the pavilion unaware of all that was happening around them). All who were on her side dispersed and Peter, who was crowned High King Peter of Narnia, as was his birth-right, soon made an end of them in time.

Also, in time, Caspian became a better, much more worthy, husband to my sister, who in turn and of course time, forgave him for the wrong he had done her back in Telmar. They raised their two beautiful boys together and quite a good many years later, very unexpectedly, when both sons were nearly all grown up, they had a daughter whom Caspian was so fond of that for the first five years of her life, it is likely that she never touched the ground.

Edmund never knew what Aslan did for him because Susan never let me tell him, saying it would be too awful for him to bear. I still think he ought to know but she made me swear to keep silent on the matter and if she could keep completely silent for two and a half years to save us, I supposed it was the least I could do in return for her.

My brother Peter remained a good king all of his days and he had fine help; both from Edmund, and from little Frank who admired his uncles deeply and strived to be just like them. In fact, when he was old enough, he passed on the birth-right of the Telmarine throne to his younger brother in favor of becoming a knight at Cair Paravel.

And, spending many a glorious day on our childhood balcony, looking out to the east to see if Aslan was coming to us over the sea, we former swans and our brave sister lived happily ever after.

_Peter's Epilogue_

After Aslan put an end to the civil war by means I did not understand until Susan explained it all to me, making me swear not to tell anyone, I confess I did weep a little, being so moved by Aslan's love for us which had been so clearly and painfully foreshadowed by Susan's love during her mute years. Because of this, though Aslan gave the speech and announced my kingship to the Narnians, it was Susan who put the golden crown on my head.

Caspian became a good husband to her eventually though it took a long time before I fully trusted him. Their other children were close to their parents and lived mostly in Telmar, but little Frank was always closer to myself and Edmund and rarely left Narnian soil.

In Telmar, Miraz's life was spared but only on the condition that he and his horrible wife fled the kingdoms of Telmar and Narnia and never came near us again. Because of this, no one has heard anything from them since though I do not believe they fared very well, all things considered.

I have yet to marry and until then, I wear my mother's ring, the one saved and returned by my sister, around my neck as symbol. Lucy and Edmund both had golden necklaces made with little swan pendants on them to wear as reminders.

Susan never needed any reminders but I highly doubt she will ever be able to knit anything again without weeping.

* * *

_We live happily ever after, my brothers, my sister, and I._


End file.
